


The City Down Below

by CyberQueens



Series: To Be a Bird of Prey [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Birds of Prey - freeform, F/F, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3573758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyberQueens/pseuds/CyberQueens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't save a city with forgiveness.</p><p>Part Three of the <i>To Be a Bird of Prey</i> series. Canon-compliant until 2.05.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT (19/03/2015)** : This is essentially a copy/paste of the note added to the first and second parts, so skip accordingly
> 
> Just a little housekeeping, since my er - organizational plans for this story have changed in the like, year since I started writing it (God I'm slow), so I'm breaking it down into more, smaller parts. Basically, all the sub-parts will be (re)posted as separate parts within the series, all still found under the 'To Be a Bird of Prey' series link (thank all the gods for Ao3's system). It'll be much cleaner, neater, and less headache-inducing for all of us.
> 
> P.S. If this is the first time you're reading this story, then disregard this note.
> 
>  **TL;DR** : This is what used to be sub-part number 3 in Origins.

_Chapter One_

 

**_Queen Consolidated Headquarters_ **

**_One Month Ago_ **

 

It wasn't the pain in her shoulders, from her wrists being bound too tight, that made her angry. Or the throbbing of her knees where they dug into the hard, cold floor. It wasn't even being forced to the ground next to Felicity Smoak by Slade Wilson.

It was the story he told.

Five years, and all she had were questions. And when he came back, he gave her lies instead of answers. _She died when the Gambit went down_ , he said, over and over, and now he was here, telling Slade Wilson to lower his swords, to let them go, to just take him instead, because Sara Lance getting to live while a woman named Shado got a bullet to the head? That was his fault. It was his fault that she got to breathe another breath in Purgatory when Shado didn't. Funny. Because she'd spent six years thinking her sister had drowned long before that.

They'd stolen her life from her. They went behind her back and then they died, and she was left behind with lies cutting up new wounds each waking moment, a grief she didn't know how to process and a heart she didn't know how to put back together, left behind to watch her mother leave and what was left of her family fall apart. And now, she had to hear about more of their lies, of their mistakes, had to feel all of her wounds reopen while she waited for her life to get taken away one last time, by the stroke of a sword, along with that of an innocent woman who'd had no part in any of their secrets. Much like the unfortunate Shado, Laurel supposed. She, on the other hand, was the other Lance sister. Forced on her knees to die, so her sister could steal her life away one last time.

Because that was all she and Felicity were, really. Puppets dangled on their strings, to play act one last time in a men's story that demanded an encore.

It made her _angry_.

God, she was so angry.

So much so that her hands balled into fists and shook behind her back, that there were tears burning her eyes, burning right down her cheeks when they spilled over, that it was getting hard to breathe because she was _just so_ _angry_.

She was going to die, because her sister ran off her with her boyfriend, because they lied, because they cheated, because they crossed the wrong people, she was going to die for that. Laurel Lance, screwed over one last time by her lying boyfriend and her dead sister.

The anger cut right down to her bones, spreading through every part of her, making her teeth rattle, rising up in her throat; she was so angry she could _scream_.

So she did.

She opened her mouth, and screamed off the top of her lungs.

It was loud, ringing in her ears, but she didn't hear her voice so much as she _felt_ it. She felt it vibrate, pulsing around her, through her, in her throat.

And it felt _long_. Like it could last forever if she let it.

When she stopped and opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was all the glass. All around her, all around all four them; broken glass littering the ground wherever she looked.

For that one moment, everything was quiet.

And then Oliver moved.

He charged at Slade Wilson, knocking him to the side. They stumbled, slid across the floor, and right out one of the shattered windows.

Laurel caught her breath, eyes frozen on the spot they'd disappeared from, before she turned them to Felicity. She was lying on her side, looking out of it, just barely conscious.

Feeling behind her, Laurel wrapped her fingers around a stray shard of glass, turning it over, moving it up and down, to cut through her binds. It must have been sharp because they gave way quickly, even though she'd felt the sting of the glass grazing her own hands in the process, and she threw them away, scrambling over to Felicity.

"Felicity?" she called out to her, shaking her shoulder. "Felicity, can you hear me?"

What she got in response was a faint groan, and an intelligible mumble, but there were still no major injuries on her body that she could see. She worked on freeing her of her own binds next, careful not to cut her, rubbing her hands and arms up and down to get her blood flowing again when she was done.

She jumped to her feet when there was suddenly noise behind her, whirling around to see a hand grasp at the window ledge; Oliver's hand.

Even as she ran over to help him up, the thought ran through her mind. _Let him fall._

She helped him pull himself back up and fall back inside. He got up, looking down at his bloodied hands, before his eyes went up to her.

His mouth moved but he said nothing, like he couldn't find the words; not that there were any she'd accept.

"You should check on Felicity," she saved him from having to scramble for more apologies, or more lies, and his head whipped to the side the moment she spoke.

All the glass crunched under his feet as he made his way over to Felicity; he crouched next to her, taking her face in his hands, probably leaving bloody marks on it, and talking to her quietly, too low to hear.

Laurel looked away from them, turning back to the window instead. She stuck her head out, looking all the way down to the pavement below.

There was no sign of Slade Wilson anywhere.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Starling City, California_ **

**_Present Day_ **

 

" _In an unexpected turn of events, this evening's hostage crisis at Starling National Bank ended with no further casualties, and the reappearance of Helena Bertinelli, daughter of now deceased mafia boss Frank Bertinelli –_ "

Laurel tipped the bottle upside-down, shook the last few droplets out of it, then tossed it to join the pile of its predecessors; maybe she should take out the trash soon.

" _Bertinelli, also known as The Huntress, is being described by eye witnesses as one of two women subduing the robbers and helping rescue the hostages –_ "

Helena Bertinelli as a force for good? That was new.

Laurel turned the volume up as she took a good, long sip of her wine, giving the news report her full attention; it had been a while since her TV had buzzed with anything other than reports of theft, vandalism and murder.

" _The other woman in the rescue effort remains more mysterious, however, though speculation is already under way that she is someone we have seen in Starling before –_ "

Laurel sat up.

The report cut over to crime scene footage, giving a nice, wide view of Starling National Bank's structure being left bare, because all the glass that had covered its façade was scattered across the ground. Speaking over the zoom-ins, the anchorwoman related the witnesses' accounts of some kind of sonic blast.

The woman in black.

The woman in black who had helped The Arrow get away, by dropping in out of nowhere and holding up a device that she used to shatter every glass surface in the place.

Much like _she_ had shattered every glass surface at Queen Consolidated.

It'd been a month, and it was all she could think about. She'd tried to explain it away, write it off as a freak accident or something, but it had been _her_. She'd felt that pulse go through her. It had been her.

She had files upon files upon more files on her computer, all part of the painstaking, month-long effort to explain it; to explain how she had done it. All it had amounted to was opera singers breaking glasses with their voices. Which was all probably faked anyway. Nothing to explain what she had done.

But what the woman in black did, however she did it – it came close.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Two Weeks Later_ **

 

"Another update from your girlfriend?"

Sara only spared her an annoyed look before turning back to her phone – a new, touchscreen smartphone, with its own customized OS and impenetrable cloud, courtesy of Felicity Smoak. Helena had been there when she'd given the phone to Sara, all bright smiles and animated hand gestures; she was only somewhat offended that she didn't get a phone, too.

"The latest is, there's some guys cooking up a new drug and putting it on the streets," Sara informed, dragging her finger along the screen. "One kid's already in ICU because of it."

"Which makes this crime-fighter bait number…five, this week?" Helena commented. "Pretty soon, she's gonna start making crime happen herself just so we'd have to take it on."

Sara sighed. "She misses this," she said. "The whole 'saving the city' thing."

"We didn't come here to save the city," Helena pointed out.

"No," Sara agreed, "but we've still been…putting in the hours, right?"

Helena pursed her lips. "One stopped bank robbery two weeks ago does not vigilantes make."

"You say that like it's the only thing we've done."

She did have her there.

"Fine," she relented. "And I take it Felicity gets to join in on the fun?"

"It's kind of why she's been sending us these alerts, so…yeah," Sara said, and Helena was learning that, much like she did for every person in her past, The Canary also had a particular kind of tone she reserved for one Felicity Smoak. It usually went hand-in-hand with a little smile at the corner of her mouth, that just bordered on happy.

"Great, looking forward to that," Helena deadpanned. "In the meantime" – she circled back for her bag, and the sandwiches and sodas she'd stashed there – "lunch."

Sara took her share of the food, lowering herself to the ground. "Maybe we should get a stove in here."

"We don't have electricity," Helena pointed out as she took her own seat on the ground.

"That's because we don't pay the bill."

"Are you suggesting we _rob_ a bank for a change to get the money to pay it?"

Sara actually seemed to consider that. "Well, no," she eventually dismissed the idea. "But maybe we should look into making this tower…suited for more permanent living arrangements."

"Right," Helena muttered, pursing her lips.

"Helena – "

"No, I get it," she said. "You want to stay here. It's pretty much what you've always wanted."

"And what _you_ never did."

To be a sitting duck waiting to get its neck wrung by Ra's al Ghul and his army of assassins, in a city whose every corner was etched with tainted memories? No, she didn't particularly want that. But hey… " _Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire._ "

Sara smiled. "You know, Italian isn't one of my strong suits."

Helena smiled back for a moment, before she said, "It means that wherever you go, you will always end up back at home." She shrugged. "And so I did, I guess."

Sara nodded. "As did I."

And such a sweet homecoming it all was.

Still, Helena raised her soda can, bumping it with Sara's. "Cheers to that."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You sure you want to do this from your place?" Sara asked, getting up on the bike behind Helena. "Verdant has a better set-up."

" _I've got all the firepower I need right here_ ," was Felicity's response, and Sara thought she sounded about as enthusiastic as she had ever heard her; she couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, then," she said, just as Helena revved the engine. "Where to?"

" _So, under other circumstances, I would've scored some of their stuff and tagged the money – 'cause money is like pigeons or something_ ," Felicity spoke into their earpieces over the noise of the bike; Sara was pretty sure she knew exactly what kind of expression Helena was sporting right about now. " _Since, you know, it always finds its back to top brass, like – no, it's probably not like pigeons, why am I thinking about pigeons? Is it pigeons? Anyway._ " She cleared her throat. " _Because we don't have any of that, I went snooping around the PD's reports, got the address of where that poor kid in ICU bought this stuff, and then I hacked CCTV cams, and tracked the –_ "

"Just tell me where to drive to," Helena interrupted.

" _Right. Uh, they're using one of the decommissioned buildings in the East Glades as a makeshift lab_ ," Felicity informed. " _About a block south from the old CNRI building. The police are too busy dealing with everything else, they don't go down there much these days. Makes it kinda perfect for an illegal drug-making lab._ "

"And how many are we up against?" Sara spoke up, as Helena spurred the bike down the more secluded roads.

" _Peanuts_ ," Felicity said. " _Well, for the two of you anyway. Six guys, tops._ "

It ended up being more like ten.

All cooped up in their little lab, and looking at the state of it, Sara wasn't surprised their stuff was making people sick. They were probably close to getting sick themselves, too; there wasn't even a proper ventilation system in the place.

She snuck up behind them, blocking a possible escape route, while her partner took the front.

"'Evening, boys," Helena said, stepping up to right where they could all see her, and drawing both her guns.

There was a predictable commotion among the men; two drew their own guns, a few wielded knives, and one just put his hands up. That one wasn't much of a hardened criminal, Sara supposed.

"What the hell do you want?" one of them demanded, just as another seemed to come to a realization and let out, "Wait, you're The Huntress."

Helena grinned, and pulled both triggers.

The men with the guns went down, yelling, and Helena kept moving forward, kept shooting, even as she kicked the dropped guns behind her, and sent half those still standing Sara's way.

She wielded her staff, sending one man flying into the dirty tables and jabbing another in the gut, before she spun around to slap the metal across his cheek. She tripped a third one, kicking her boot in his face to knock him out just as the last one came charging at her with a knife; she broke off her staff into its two halves, parried his blows, until his blade was out of his hands; she hit him across the stomach with one of her batons, on the back of the head with the other when he doubled over, and he joined his friend on the ground, unconscious.

When she straightened, she saw Helena kneeling next to one of the men, an arm across his chest and her crossbow at the side of his throat.

"I want to know where you got this stuff from," she demanded.

"Screw you," the man groaned back at her, and earned a jab of her arrow against his neck for his efforts.

"Look, you're not some big-time drug lord, and you're clearly not trying to make a name for yourself here," Helena said. "Your product, it's what desperate kids buy because they don't have the money for the good stuff. You're obviously not someone who's got the kind of high that will get him his own market, so" – she jabbed the arrow deeper – "I'm just asking you to tell me who set you up with this operation. Who gets their ten percent share of this little enterprise, huh?"

The man wasn't getting any more cooperative, though Sara surmised that would all change if Helena began using some of her more unorthodox methods of interrogation.

" _This stuff circulates just outside the Triad's territory_ ," Felicity's voice crackled in both their comms, and it sounded a little stilted to Sara's ears. " _Maybe they're expanding their business_."

Helena cocked her head, then looked down at the man with renewed interest. "Trust me," she told him, "the people you fear? I'm way worse than them." She smiled. "If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'm going to start breaking your fingers, then your arms, then your legs, and then I'll pry out your kneecaps, and it's all going to hurt so much more than anything Chien Na Wei and her little knives can do to you."

Sara studied the man, from the way his eyes widened to the bobbing of his throat beneath Helena's arrow, and though he still said nothing, she was pretty sure they had their answer nonetheless. Which, as it turned out, was exactly what Helena was looking for.

"Thank you," she said, then knocked him unconscious with one sharp blow to the face.

"So, the Triad," she concluded, rising back to her feet. "Makes sense."

" _They have monopoly on most of the drug trade in Starling_ ," Felicity supplied.

"Mhmm," Helena agreed. "And hey, now we have another thing for China White to hold against us, right?"

" _Right_ ," Felicity echoed quietly.

Sara glanced over to Helena, giving her a pointed look; all she got in response was a shrug.

"How much time before the SCPD gets here?" she asked.

" _I'm sending them an anonymous tip right…now_. _You have about three minutes_."

"Copy that," Helena acknowledged, and Sara felt her come up at her side. "Got something else there, Birdie?"

Sara shook her head, sliding her hand over the small syringes, filled up with bleak green liquid, all lined up on one of the tables. "Ever see a drug that comes pre-packaged like this?"

"No," Helena said. "But given what a bad high it is, I'd say pre-packaging is the least they could do for their customers. And that's the PD's problem now anyway." She tugged on Sara's hand. "Come on, let's get out of here."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Who're you?"

Laurel dropped her briefcase onto the table separating her and one Anthony Reese. "I'm Laurel Lance, with the District Attorney's office."

"Ah, great," he sighed. "Look, I already told the cops everything I could, so – "

"I'm not here about the drug bust, Mr. Reese," she told him, taking her seat. "Well, I'm not interested in your operation, at least."

He frowned. "So…what do you want?"

"I want you" – she leaned in closer – "to tell me everything you can about The Huntress. Helena Bertinelli? She's the reason you're here, right?"

"Yeah, I told the cops everything about her, too. So, you know…go look at my statement."

Laurel raised an eyebrow. "Your statement is predictably lacking in information, what with it coming from a man who got beat up by a woman with a crossbow."

"Yeah well, there was two of them," he muttered.

"Two?"

He looked up at that, then narrowed his eyes. "Okay, say I tell you more than I told the cops," he said, "what do I get out of it?"

A bargainer. _Great_. "How about you tell me what I know, and I _don't_ make sure you get locked up for the maximum five years instead of the eighteen months you're looking at now?"

"Whoa, hey!" He raised his hands. "I gotta try and make the best of my situation here, you know?"

She said nothing.

"Right." He nodded. "So, Bertinelli, she comes storming the place, right, and she's got this other lady with her – I'm thinking it's the same one from the news, you know, the one that showed up at Starling National?" Laurel nodded. "So, The Huntress starts shooting my guys, and then she starts asking _me_ about who I work for and everything. Like, she wants to know who I answer to."

"And _who_ do you answer to?" Laurel asked.

"Nuh uh, you said you didn't care about that."

"You're right, I don't," she conceded. "Anything else?"

He shrugged.

"You know," she told him, "I could actually consider _shortening_ your sentence, if I hear something useful about Helena Bertinelli from you."

He seemed to mull that over, then nodded, looking over his shoulder before he leaned in closer. "I can't be sure," he said, "but there's rumors going around on the street – some of my guys, they say they've seen Bertinelli, like two or three times, breaking into convenience stores down in The Glades at night."

"Breaking into convenience stores?" Laurel deadpanned.

"It sounds way out there, I know, but I'm thinking that's how she gets by, right? For food and stuff?"

That –

Actually sounded like a good lead.

And where there was a break-in, there was usually also a police report, and a pattern that she could follow.

Laurel smiled at the man, getting to her feet. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Reese," she said, grabbing her briefcase off the table.

"What? No wait, you said you'd – "

She slammed the door shut behind her.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

 

"I bring foody gifts!"

Helena turned to the sound of Felicity's voice, where she was coming up to their tower for the fifth time in as many days. She was definitely taking advantage of their new open door policy.

But it made the little bird happy, because the smile on her face had grown wider as the clacking of heels up the stairs had gotten louder, and now, she was grinning. Because she had a thing for Felicity.

"I know you guys have been going by on stale sandwiches and Oreos, so I thought I'd bring you some nice and hot cooked meals for a change," Felicity went on, dangling three takeout bags in each hand and sounding like she was very much out of breath, "though they're probably not even hot anymore, 'cause it took me like ten minutes to get all the way up here – and side note: have you thought about an elevator for this place?" She scrunched her eyebrows there, then added, "Okay, you two probably don't need it, but maybe for visitors?"

Sara laughed, walking up to take the bags from Felicity's hand and hold them up for inspection. "That's a lot of food."

"More for leftovers?" Felicity proposed, grinning at Sara who was grinning at her, and Helena rolled her eyes.

"We don't have a fridge to put leftovers in either," she said

Felicity's face fell for a moment. Then brightened right back up. "I could get you some of those thermo baggy things that keeps stuff warm? And cold."

Of course she could. "We're fine," Helena assured flatly, earning herself a predictable look from Sara, before she took a peek into the bags. "That _is_ a lot of food," she commented.

"Right, yeah, I didn't know your preferences," Felicity explained, "so I got a little bit of everything. There's Chinese and Mexican, and there's some stuff from that Moroccan place next to QC that's just to die for – oh, and there's actually some Big Belly Burger in there too, since I figured, you know, maybe you're _really_ into sandwiches and grease and fries? Um, and…there's some...Italian, in there. Too."

Helena raised an eyebrow at her and the way she puckered her lips while lightly bumping her fists against one another, then nodded. It was a gesture. She could accept a gesture. She was gracious.

"Thanks," she said, taking the bag with the food meant for her and looking through the containers. "Though, next time," she added, "maybe try a little harder than _pasta_?"

So maybe she wasn't all that gracious.

Felicity's face fell again. "Right," she muttered.

Sara was giving her another look. Helena ignored her.

"Well, thank you," Sara turned to Felicity, all smiles again. "Really."

Felicity shrugged. "It's nothing. And, uh" – she shifted a little awkwardly – "I was thinking, if you don't have any plans tonight, I have a few criminal hotspots that could use your attention…if you want?"

"Yeah, of course," Sara agreed immediately, even squeezing Felicity's arm for a moment.

That perked little Ms. Smoak right back up. "Okay, great," she said. "Later, then."

She threw one last wave over her shoulder on her way down, and Helena was sure she'd heard her mumble something about heels and stairs, too, before the sounds faded. The moment they did, Sara whirled on her.

"Do you _have_ to be like that with her?" she demanded.

Helena shrugged. "If I start acting _nice_ ," she said, lowering herself to her favorite eating position on the floor, "she could take it as an invitation to actually move in."

Sara licked her lips – a sign of frustration – then just dropped to the ground with a sigh.

"But I'm guessing that's exactly what you want," Helena added, nodding.

Jabbing her chopsticks into a container of noodles, Sara said, "Felicity, she's – "

"The thing that makes your little bird heart sing, yeah."

"My _friend_ ," Sara corrected pointedly, and Helena could even agree with that label, if it didn't sound like shoehorning something into a box it didn't quite fit in.

But that was probably the easier way to go about it, when what used to make her little bird heart sing, or maybe still did, was in Nanda Parbat.

Or coming to kill them all.

She clucked her tongue. "Okay, I'm sorry," she apologized. "You like her, I know that. And you like this thing we've been doing with her, but…"

"You don't?" Sara guessed.

"It's not all bad," Helena admitted. "Going out every other night, doing what we do, I like that. And Felicity, she knows how not to get us killed. And yeah, fine, sometimes I like her, I think she's made of the same stuff we are. But then she says something and I remember that she's Oliver's girl." She shrugged. "And I can't trust that."

Sara looked down, twirled her noodles around for a bit, then commented, "She's trying, though. To not see us as Oliver and Diggle. And she's trying to bond with _you_."

"So, you're saying I should meet her halfway?"

Sara shrugged. "I think that'd be good."

"Fine, I'll try," Helena agreed. "But I'm not making any promises."

 

 

* * *

 

 

The last time she'd been up here, it was on her knees with a sword looming over her head, ready to come down against her neck at any secon

Not that any trace of that night remained still. Or of Oliver's presence in the office, really. Which, she supposed, wasn't all that hard to accomplish, considering he'd left no personal touch on it.

It was still as minimalistic as he'd left it, though. Mrs. Queen was just little better at color-coordinating it.

With the exception of a giant flower assortment at the corner of her desk.

Felicity took one last steeling breath before she tapped on the glass. "You wanted to see me?"

Moira looked up, a slight smile on her face. "Ms. Smoak," she greeted. "Yes, I've asked to have you sent up here. Have a seat, please."

Felicity sat down, smoothing down her skirt. "Well, I hope you're not about to ask me to be _your_ EA," she said, then winced. "I mean, 'cause I was terrible at it."

"Actually, you were pretty good," Moira told her, raising an eyebrow. "Especially considering you weren't qualified for the position."

Ouch.

"What I'm interested about is the position you _are_ qualified for," she went on. "I know that, since my son left, you've taken your old job back, down at IT."

Felicity swallowed. "I have."

"And I imagine it suits you, but I was wondering if you had thought to surpass it? Move up the ladder?"

"Wait, are you…offering me a _promotion_?"

"I am." Moira nodded. "To Head of the IT Department."

That just made –

Perfect sense, actually.

"Mrs. Queen, with all due respect," Felicity said, "I don't want any favors."

"Favors?" Moira echoed delicately.

Felicity sighed. "The thing is, I'm pretty sure you're offering me this promotion because I was" – she cleared her throat – " _friends_ , with Oliver. Because you want to do a favor for someone he was close to, and I _especially_ think that because I know for a fact that Isabel hates me and that you'd need a good reason to fight her over giving me this position."

"Yes, Isabel is very much against the idea," Moira confirmed, her expression growing a little sour. "I'd wondered about her reasons, actually."

Well, her reasons probably went along the lines of resenting the hell out of the girl she'd thought had slept her way to the top, but no need to bring that up.

"And you're right," Moira added after a moment. "This is something I wanted to do for you as Oliver's…friend."

Always that little inflection on the word, Felicity thought. With everyone at QC. All the time.

"Which is not to say that I think you're not qualified for the position," Moira went on. "I know you are. You are actually _over_ -qualified for your current position, and Walter" – she glanced at the flowers on her desk – "thinks being there _limits_ your potential in this company."

Felicity smiled. "Mr. Steele was always nice to me. And a charmer" – she grinned and nodded to the flowers, then winced again – "which is none of my business."

Oddly or not, Moira smiled, too. "Yes, the flowers are from him." She paused for a moment, then added, "For my birthday."

"It's your birthday?" Felicity let out, because it came but once a year, and Moira Queen's birthday usually generated much more buzz than – well, complete silence. Even when she was in _prison_.

"There's not much fanfare this year," Moira agreed, as if she'd read her thoughts. "I saw no reason to host a party, not when my son is away, again, and my daughter won't speak to me, unless it's to tell me she's moving out of the house." She blew out a quiet breath, then gestured to the flowers. "Walter thought these would cheer me up."

"I'm…sorry," Felicity offered.

It had to really suck to, out of your whole family, only still be on speaking terms with the ex-husband you'd helped keep imprisoned for months.

It also had to be that she was hearing about it for a reason.

"Mrs. Queen," she said, squaring her shoulders, "I get that…you'd want to have something to help fix your relationship with at least your son, which in this case would be getting _me_ a promotion, but…I don't think he's coming back. Not anytime soon. He will, just…not soon. And when he does, it…won't be for me." She shook her head. "So, if you want to get on his good side again, I'm not your way in."

Felicity was pretty sure she saw the exact moment Moira swallowed back her sadness, closing her eyes for just a little too long.

Eventually, she said, "Well, thank you for your honesty, Ms. Smoak." She nodded. "And my offer still stands."

"And I still don't want it," Felicity maintained. "To be honest with you, I'm not even sure I…want to stay at Queen Consolidated."

She didn't elaborate, but Moira still looked like she understood.

"In that case, I can provide you with a list of companies that might be looking for a woman of your talents, if you like."

Felicity considered that. "Yeah, I think…I think I could use that," she decided. "One of these days."

"Well, feel free to come to me when the day does come," Moira assured, and Felicity took that as her cue to leave.

"Thank you," she said as she rose from her chair, making her way out. "Oh, and uh," she added over her shoulder, offering Moira a slight smile, "happy birthday, Mrs. Queen."

Moira only nodded.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"It's late."

Felicity looked up, to find Sara smiling down at her. A glance back down to the laptop in her lap confirmed it was, in fact, late. Just after three in the morning. So, _really_ late.

"Yeah, I kinda lost track of time," Felicity admitted.

"Working on getting us _more_ furniture to spruce up this tower?" Sara teased lightly, lowering herself next to Felicity on one said piece of furniture. So, she'd gotten them a couch. No big deal. They needed it, really. A nice, big, purple couch. Though Felicity personally leaned more towards something on the pastel spectrum, when she'd inquired about color preferences, Sara had thrown a quick look in Helena's direction, and asked for purple. So, purple it was.

"It's just a couch," Felicity said.

"And a coffee table, and a desk, and a fridge," Sara ticked off the rest of it, nodding towards each one of the packages that still remained to be opened and assembled. Felicity was proudest of the fridge, actually. Because getting the fridge meant that she had also successfully tricked Power and Water's system into the thinking the electricity bills for this place were, in fact, getting paid.

She smiled. "Just wait 'til I get us a bed." _No, that's not right –_ "I mean, you and Helena, I wasn't counting myself in – I'm going to get you bed _s_ , _plural_ , unless you want just one bed, I can do that too – "

"Felicity," Sara grinned, "you don't have to get us anything else."

"I want to." Felicity shrugged. "Besides, I'm a pro at sprucing up vigilantes' lairs. I'll have you know that I managed to turn the foundry from rumble-and-shambles to Crime-Fighter Central on just two million dollars."

Sara ducked her head, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "Okay," she eventually said, looking back up, "but for the record" – her smile softened – "you _should_ start counting yourself in this. Giving this tower a makeover, it…shouldn't be just for Helena and me."

Felicity bit her lip, taking a quick peek to the side, to Helena, where she was sitting on one of the unpacked boxes on her lonesome and, by the looks of it, removing bloodstains from her gear.

"What if I said this is me trying to buy my way in?" she asked quietly before dragging her eyes back to Sara, whose own were scrutinizing; after a beat, she nodded in understanding.

"You're already in, Felicity," she said, clear and steady.

Sometimes, she did feel like it. Others, not so much.

"I know it gets difficult to believe it, with Helena," Sara added, as if she'd read her thoughts. "But you have a place here." She paused before reaching out, pulling one of Felicity's hands away from the keyboard and taking it in hers. "You don't have to" – her mouth quirked at the corner – " _buy_ your way in here."

She wasn't going to cry. Nope.

"I'm still kinda butting in on your thing," she pointed out, quietly. "Feels like I have to" – _make myself useful_ – "earn it."

"Then consider it earned."

Felicity couldn't help but smile. Still… "Not sure Helena feels the same way."

Sara looked past her at that, sighing deeply before she focused back on her. "She appreciates it, all you've been doing," she said, "all _we've_ done for Starling, together. But she's also…untrusting."

"Yeah, well, if anyone should be untrusting of anyone here, it's me, considering she threatened then tied me up first time we met," Felicity grumbled.

Sara said nothing, just nodded, squeezing her hand.

Felicity held tighter in the ensuing silence, starting to feel drowsy when Sara began rubbing little circles into her palm, and letting her head fall against the back of the couch.

"You should go home and get some sleep," Sara commented softly.

And just like that, she was awake again.

"No, I'm fine," she declared, sitting back up and extracting her hand free in the process. "Besides, I should get back to this." She gestured to her laptop. "It's actually one of my facial recognition programs, but I'm tweaking it for our purposes, so it should be like, three hundred percent more efficient by the time I'm done, and when I upload it to – "

"Felicity."

She really needed to work on being a better liar.

She stilled her hands, looking over to Sara.

"You've been here a lot," Sara began, eyes steady and unwavering. "And if not here, then on the comms with us pretty much every night. I'm thinking all the hours you've been putting in aren't just about getting in on the action."

Felicity blew out a quiet breath, her eyes watering.

"I can't…really sleep," she admitted. "Lately. It's – I was doing okay at Digg's, you know, because he was there, but ever since I came back to my apartment, I just – " She cleared her throat, willing her voice to be stronger as she went on, "I keep having nightmares, or…hearing the floor creak and thinking it's China White coming to butcher me to death with her knives."

Strengthening her voice was a pointless effort because it broke on the last word, and then Sara was taking her laptop and putting it behind her, before winding an arm around her shoulders; Felicity went with the familiar motion, settling her cheek against Sara's shoulder.

Her eyes still stung but she didn't cry, taking a deep breath, then a second, before she said, "It's weird, because it's not like _that_ was the first time I'd been kidnapped or tied up or nearly killed or anything, and yeah, sure, I was jumpy and freaked out all the other times, too, but now it just…won't go away. And" – she gulped – "being alone is just really not fun for me these days, so I…spend a lot of time here." She chuckled faintly. "Guess I'm busted."

Sara huffed a small laugh in return. "You don't need an excuse, you know," she said. "If you want to stay here."

"I mostly just want to _not_ see horrible things every time I close my eyes," Felicity sighed. "Got any advice on that?"

"Not really," Sara said. "My nightmares never stopped."

"Mine did."

Felicity started at the sound of Helena's voice, twisting around to look over her shoulder; both the box and the leather lay abandoned as Helena stood halfway between them and the couch, seeming to hesitate for a second before closing the rest of the distance. Felicity tracked her movements in silence and with a frown, until Helena propped herself against one of the armrests.

"The nightmares," she said, "I used to have them all the time. For years. Ever since Michael died." Her shoulders grew stiffer there but she still added, "Because I was afraid. That I would fail, that my father would get away and I would have raised hell for nothing, that Michael would never rest in peace. But then I did find my father" – her eyes slipped to Sara for a moment – "and the nightmares stopped."

A gesture.

It was a gesture.

She was trying to be nice.

In her own special way, of course, because by 'find', she'd meant 'kill'; she'd quite literally stabbed her nightmare through the heart, and that just sounded like a terrifying nightmare in its own right.

"I couldn't do that," Felicity said. "Kill her, I mean. 'Cause that's what you're saying, right? That I should literally kill my nightmare?"

Helena shrugged. "Well, you are shacking up with two killers right now. If you want to keep _your_ hands clean…"

"I can't use either of you as henchwomen either," Felicity balked at the suggestion, though part of her felt as though she should be thanking Helena for the offer. "That's just – _no_."

"I thought you didn't have a problem with people killing for you?"

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Hey, I'm just saying," Helena raised her hands in mock-surrender. "You didn't bat an eye when Sara and I snapped the necks of three Triad men for chaining you to a wall, and I heard about Count Vertigo dropping from the top of Queen Consolidated with two arrows in his chest. Somehow, I don't think Oliver had to crawl on his knees asking for forgiveness for that either, so…"

"That's different," Felicity said heatedly, moving away from Sara as she straightened.

Helena pursed her lips. "I'm still pretty sure that if someone pulled the trigger on Chien Na Wei right now, you wouldn't mind."

Felicity meant to fire back with something, anything, and found that she had nothing to do it with. So she swallowed, looking away. "No, I wouldn't," she admitted, pulling in a deep breath before she met Helena's eyes again. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to make it happen myself." She shook her head. "I can't do that."

Helena's eyes were narrowed, and studying, and she exchanged another look with Sara before she said, "You'd be surprised, by all the things you're capable of doing."

Sara's hand tightened on her arm, and when Felicity glanced over to her, she was looking at the ground, a crease in her brow.

"Yeah, I guess you guys would have some experience with that," Felicity commented quietly, getting Sara to look up.

She'd seen that sort of look before, on Oliver and sometimes John, the one that wasn't quite there in the present, and rather at some god-awful stop of an even worse memory lane.

Still, Sara offered her a faint smile. "You could say that."

Felicity pried Sara's fingers away from her arm, wrapping them in her own instead. "You're still more than what you've done." She looked over her shoulder, to Helena. "And so are you."

If the way her jaw went slack was any indication, Helena hadn't seen that one coming.

Felicity nodded slightly when Sara's eyebrows shot up, because it wasn't all that long ago when she was asking her to see Helena as more than what she had done, as she did the rest of them, and Felicity wouldn't hear of it. Because she couldn't understand her. Sara, and John, and Oliver, she understood them; people who had done what they had because they'd had no other choice. She couldn't understand Helena the same way.

She did mean it now, though.

Sure, Helena was all heads-through-brick-walls, and trigger-happy, and rude, and honestly, one hundred percent terrifying, and truth be told, Felicity still didn't get it, how someone ended up the way Helena was, but she could understand loyalty. Loyalty to Michael before, and to Sara now. _That_ , she could understand.

And Helena seemed a lot more like an actual person now.

So, she turned back to her, shrugging. "I'm sorry for all the times I thought of you as just the patricidal, unhinged, psycho mob princess."

She could be wrong, but Helena looked like she might be stifling a smile. "Then I'm sorry for thinking of you as nothing more than Oliver's girl."

Felicity frowned. "Oliver's girl?"

"Takes one to know one," Helena was the one to shrug this time. "The point is, I see a lot of him in you. And not in a good way."

"You mean how I got carried away with the whole doing-things-our-way…thing?"

"Yeah," Helena said. "He liked to be the only one who gets to decide who lives or dies, too."

"That's not really…how that went," Felicity argued, though meekly.

Helena crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Felicity sighed. "Okay, yeah, he had his rules," she allowed, "and when they changed, so did our entire modus operandi, but…"

"You did things his way," Helena said. "And you still are."

"It's the only way I know how." Felicity shrugged. "Oliver and John, they were the only team I ever had, and…the way we did things, that's what I learned, what I know." When Helena began gearing up for a protest, she quickly added, "I know you're not them. I do. And I'm not trying to make you into them. Well, not anymore anyway." She rolled her eyes, mostly at herself. "I always knew it wasn't going to be the same with the two of you, that it was going to be different than it was like with Oliver and Digg. I knew that, and I told myself I'd" – she chuckled – " _adapt_." She nodded. "The way I did with them, too."

Helena blinked, then really did smile as she looked over to Sara. "Guess I wasn't wrong about everything. You are made of the same stuff we are."

_Huh?_

"We adapted, too," Sara told her when Felicity directed her frown at her. "It's how we became killers."

"Oh. That doesn't bode too well for me, then."

Helena laughed this time.

It was short and quiet, and Felicity almost thought she'd imagined it.

"Well, this was fun," Helena said as she pushed herself off the armrest and onto her feet. "And now I'm gonna take a break from it and run to the store." Her leather rustled as she slipped it on. "For some baking soda, before this" – she gestured to a sizeable patch of dirtied leather on her gear – "becomes a lost cause."

"Baking soda?" Felicity asked. "Oliver always used the hydrogen peroxide we had lying around."

"Baking soda's better."

"Really?"

Helena hummed, then flashed her a grin. "You learn a lot growing up in the mob," she said as she went down the hatch and out of sight. The thump and clomp of boots down the stairs soon faded too, and Felicity was left with an odd feeling of happiness in her chest, the likes of which she had never thought she would associate with Helena Bertinelli.

She turned to Sara, and grinned. "I am in, baby, I am _in_."

"Okay, that 'baby' got away from me," she added after a second of mental playback. "Unless you're into that? Not that I'm – I mean, personally, it always creeped me out, 'cause I'm always picturing it coming out of this sleazy old guy's mouth, which obviously makes it weird that I'm saying it but – I'll just stop talking."

"Still cute," Sara said with a grin, all teeth and dimples.

Her dimples were all sorts of adorable.

And all the freckles.

And –

Oh God, she had a type.

And it involved lots of leather and blonde hair.

And really, really pretty bright blue eyes.

"Did you really mean it?" Sara asked next, her voice low. "What you said to Helena?"

What had she –

Oh right, _that_.

Wow, she really needed to stop getting distracted by pretty blonde vigilantes.

Anyway.

"Yeah," she said. "Turns out, you were right. She's more than just, you know, Oliver's psycho ex-girlfriend. Digg used to call her that. Anyway" – she shook her head – "I think she's growing on me."

Sara smiled. "I'm glad."

"Because you don't have to be the awkward middle woman anymore?"

"Yeah."

Felicity snorted.

"But also," Sara added, "because it means you'll be probably be here more often."

"You like having me around?"

Sara nodded. "I do," she said, simple and honest.

She was always like that with her, Felicity thought, and it was always almost surprising, because she was used to a man who had such a tight lock on his thoughts and feelings that getting to hear them felt like winning a battle; not Sara, though. She hid things, too, lots of things, but it was Felicity's experience that a simple question would get her a simple answer.

Maybe that was another thing that made Sara so amazing.

She was honest.

At least with her.

"I like having you around, too," she whispered.

Sara smiled again, slowly, until it had reached every part of her face, and Felicity felt a lot like leaning in closer.

And then birds started singing.

Literally.

Felicity bit back a smile at Sara's ringtone – birds, honestly – then forget what was supposed to be funny, because Helena's name was flashing across the screen and Sara was frowning.

"Helena?" Sara prompted as soon as she'd pressed 'answer', putting her on speaker.

" _Hey, Birdie,_ " Helena's voice rang through the tower, sounding stilted.

"What's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

" _Not so much trouble_ ," Helena said, " _as a one-woman ambush._ "

Felicity frowned. So did Sara. "An ambu – what woman?"

" _Laurel Lance._ "


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

 

It was true what they said.

Don't do today what you can leave for tomorrow.

Otherwise, you end up in a back alley, almost at the crack of dawn, with Laurel Lance pointing a gun at your back.

Helena turned to the barrel slowly, hands up in surrender for Laurel's benefit.

"You're a hard woman to find," Laurel told her, both hands on the gun, one finger hovering near the trigger. Helena looked her over; she'd changed since they last time they'd met. It was in the eyes, she supposed; the tiredness there.

"That's the idea," Helena quipped, lowering her arms back at her sides. "Are you here to bring me in, Laurel?" she asked. "Because it won't be that easy."

"Even if I did, I get the feeling your friend in black would show up to save you," Laurel said. "Like she did The Arrow."

Helena narrowed her eyes; this wasn't about her. It was about Sara.

"You're obviously part of her little circle now," Laurel went on. "I want you to take me to her."

Not a chance.

She could get out of this very easily, Helena thought. But Sara wouldn't forgive her if she put as much as a scratch on her big sister.

"I don't want to hurt you, Laurel," she warned, "but I will if you don't get out of my way."

Laurel only aimed the gun higher, right at her head. "I want to talk to her."

"So you can point that gun at _her_?"

"I just want to talk," she maintained.

Helena had some trouble believing that. "Why?"

Laurel seemed to hesitate, losing her focus for a moment; Helena moved her hand to her crossbow.

Eventually, Laurel said, "Something happened to me that I can't explain. But your friend, I think she could have some answers for me."

"She won't."

"I'll decide that," Laurel retorted, taking a step closer. "Now take me to her."

Helena shook her head. "Can't do that."

"Then call her!" Laurel demanded. "Get her here. I don't care how you do it, but I'm not letting you leave until I see her."

She could just pull that gun out of her hands, whip it against her skull, and be done with this. But Sara would kill her for it. And Sara would also want to help. If she saw her sister this desperate for some kind of answer, she would jump leaps and bounds over the city just to get to her.

"Fine," Helena agreed. "I'll call her."

She reached for her phone slowly, to show Laurel she meant no harm, then dialed.

"Put her on speaker."

She did.

Not a second later, Sara's voice came crackling through it, a little distorted, but Helena still saw Laurel's brow furrow slightly at the sound of it as she prompted, " _Helena?_ "

"Hey, Birdie," Helena said.

" _What's wrong? Are you in trouble?_ "

"Not so much trouble, as a one-woman ambush."

" _An ambu – what woman?_ "

"Laurel Lance."

The name, as she knew it would, was met with a long, deafening silence.

Helena watched Laurel as it stretched, the way her face seemed frozen in a frown, and wondered how _she_ would feel if she were in Laurel's place, if she heard Michael's voice after all these years; if she would recognize it. Probably not.

" _What – what does she want?_ " Sara eventually asked.

"To talk to you," Helena told her. "She thinks you have some answers for her."

Hoping that Sara would say no, that she would steer clear, was futile.

And sure enough, a moment later, she agreed. " _I'll meet with her._ "

"Alright," Helena said. "Be here in ten."

Laurel didn't speak as she hung up then placed the phone back in her pocket, just kept staring at the spot where she'd held it.

"She just agreed," she muttered – mostly to herself, Helena supposed.

"Well, you're getting what you wanted," Helena commented dryly. "Perk up."

It almost seemed to have startled Laurel. She whipped her eyes to Helena, then to the gun she still had raised; she lowered it the next moment.

"I just…didn't think it would be that easy," she said.

Helena left her alone with her thoughts, let the minutes tick by, until she could hear Sara's bike in the distance. Laurel heard it, too, turning to it.

She jumped when Helena grabbed her arm.

"You called, she came," she told her, low but clear, "because she wants to help. There's no agenda, not for her. So I hope you're not trying to pull any tricks here either."

Laurel frowned, then seemed to come to some kind of realization. "You're protecting her."

Helena released her, pulling her mouth into a sweet smile. "She's my partner," she said simply, looking past her and down the alley.

Sara was coming towards them, quick then slower, more unsteady, and Helena bit back a sigh. She just nodded instead, and leapt up the nearest wall; family matters stayed in the family. Sara had respected that, for her, helping her deal with _her_ family the way _she_ saw fit. The least she could do was extend the same courtesy.

She only far enough away to keep out of sight – because yes, she _was_ protecting her partner – then called their little eye in the sky. "Tell me you've found a bird's eye view of this place."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Laurel barely noticed Helena disappear from behind her, eyes locked on the woman in black.

She'd never seen her from this close up, for this long. The black leather, the almost straw-like blonde hair, the way she walked; they were all that of a stranger.

"Hello, Laurel."

But _that_ voice…

She swore she knew that voice.

"Um, uh…hi," she found her own, stepping closer to the woman; the latter ducked her head when she came _too_ close.

"Helena said you wanted to talk to me," the woman spoke again. "That I would have answers for you."

"Yes, that's…that's what I wanted." The gun was still in her hand, still loaded, and she almost forgot she had it. She'd meant to approach this woman like she would a witness on the stand, be aggressive and direct until the answers came, with a gun to aid the process; she'd thought that would be the only way.

But the woman, she was…different.

She almost reminded of The Arrow, of the way _he'd_ behaved around her.

"I, uh – I was taken, by a man, a while back," she said. "Me and…another woman."

"I know."

"You do? Okay. Um, well, something happened – I _made_ something happen, and...I can't explain it." She swallowed. "But then I saw Starling National, after that robbery, and I remembered that…you did the same thing I did. With the glass. You shattered all of it…like I did."

The woman said nothing for a moment, before she reached for something at her belt; she held it out in palm of her hand. "I use this," she explained. "It's a sonic device."

"I know, but I don't have anything like that," Laure said, coming closer still. "I thought maybe…you used it to channel…something? Or…you knew someone who could…do this sort of thing without it?"

The woman shook her head. "I don't," she told her. "I'm sorry."

Laurel looked down, staring at that little device, and felt a lump rising in her throat.

She'd known it was a long shot; but it was the only thing she had. And now, there were tears burning her eyes.

She lifted her head, and found that the woman had done the same, that she was watching her from behind her mask; with piercing, bright blue eyes.

She swore she knew those eyes, too.

She stumbled back, turned away from – this woman, this stranger, she was a stranger, not –

"I can help you," she heard her call out after her. "I – I have friends, are they're good at…figuring things out, we can help you. We can help you find out what happened."

_Run_ , she thought. She had to run. She had to get away from here.

"No, I'm – I'm sorry, I should…I should go," she tripped over her words just as she tripped away from –

"Laurel, it's me."

And suddenly there wasn't enough air in her lungs.

No, it wasn't –

It couldn't –

She still turned back, though it was hard to breathe, and her eyes were burning with tears, to see her come closer, and her hand rise to take off the mask.

"It's me, Laurel, it's Sara."

Sara.

Died on the boat.

Died on the island.

Didn't die at all.

She stood there – she stood _right there._

Alive, and breathing, and in a stranger's clothes, and looking at her with wet eyes, and she just –

She just came back.

"Laurel – "

She didn't even think. She just raised the gun. "Stay away!"

Sar – no, _the woman_ , stopped, swayed on the spot like she'd been hit; like she was about to cry.

Her dead sister was crying in front of her.

And she just ran.

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _Rooftop, south side_."

"Yeah, I see her," Helena said.

She disconnected the call with Felicity, crossing the space to where Sara sat on the ledge, head bowed and limply holding her mask and wig in her hands.

Helena didn't think there was much she could say, not after she'd just had her sister point a gun at her, so she just walked over and waited for Sara to talk.

When she did, it was a with a hollow, "My sister hates me."

And that was why she should have steered clear.

Still, Helena knelt in front of her, and put her hands over hers.

Sara sniffled. "I knew she did," she added. "I just…I guess I just wasn't ready to see it."

Helena sighed. "Go home," she said.

"No – " Sara shook her head. "Laurel, she's upset, I have to – "

"I'll make sure she's okay," Helena cut her off. "You need to go home."

"I'm not really home." Sara finally looked up, eyes brimmed with red. "And my family doesn't need me," she whispered. "You were right."

Helena closed her eyes. "Doesn't matter," she let the words out with a rush of air. "You need to get to the tower." After a moment, she added, "Felicity's still there."

It didn't cheer her up this time.

_Cheerless little bird_ , she thought. "Okay," she muttered, lifting her hands to Sara's hair. She rolled it into a loose bun before reaching for the wig, pulling it in place as gently as she could; Sara barely moved.

"You can't be out here," Helena said and picked up the mask next, bringing it to Sara's face, then carefully pushing her fingers along the edges to make it stick. "There," she concluded. "Now go. I'll take care of Laurel."

Sara nodded, getting to her feet. Helena watched her until she jumped off to the next building, then the next one; she lingered for a moment longer, taking a deep breath, before she went off after Laurel.

She tailed her from the 24/7 liquor store to her apartment, going for the window when she went for the building door.

She was well inside the living room when Laurel came in.

Laurel took one look at her, tensed like she was about to fight, then simply deflated; Helena noticed her eyes were just as red as Sara's had been.

"Did _she_ send you here?" Laurel practically spat at her, throwing her keys and missing the bowl on the counter, before she shut the door with her foot.

"I volunteered," Helena said. "To make sure you don't do anything stupid, like drink all of" – she nodded towards the paper bag in Laurel's hands – " _that_."

Laurel let out a bitter chuckle. "Well, you can go," she dismissed. "I don't want you here. Or her."

"This wasn't how she wanted to tell you she was alive, you know," Helena told her.

Laurel whirled around at that, eyes flashing with anger. "Then how _did_ she want to?" she demanded. " _When_? Because it looks to me like she's been right _here_ for a while."

"I don't know," Helena said, "but I doubt any of her when's and how's included having you point a gun at her."

The jab seemed to have gotten to Laurel because she flinched, then reached for her gun and tossed it on the couch like it was on fire. She had her back to her now, but Helena still heard her take a deep, wet breath, and sniffle.

"You know, you're right," Helena told her. "About Sara having been here for a while. And she's been here because she said her family needed her – that _you_ did. And tonight, she told me I was right when I said you didn't." She shrugged. "Maybe you don't. But she does need _you_."

Laurel turned at that, eyes heavy with tears. "Really?" she challenged. "Because I've been right here the entire time. She's the one who – I mean, where was she? When Mom left, when she was looking all over the world for her, when Dad started drinking, when The Undertaking happened, when I lost Tommy, when I almost died because she didn't– _where the hell was she_!"

The bottles shattered right in her hand.

And the glass on the coffee table.

And the picture frames on the dresser.

Drops of red – wine, Helena assumed – dripped down from the tattered bag she still held, but for all the yelling she was doing a moment ago, Laurel was really quiet now, staring at the broken pieces on the ground.

Well.

Her bird song definitely packed a bigger punch than her little sister's.

Maybe that was because it came from _inside_ of her.

"Well," Helena broke the silence, "there's something I've never seen before."

Laurel sobbed.

She brought a hand to cover her mouth so the sounds came out muffled instead, but they still filled the place, and the tears still ran down her cheeks.

There was nothing Helena could do about that.

So she walked over to the knocked-over broken picture frames instead, and picked up the one that had drawn her attention; Quentin Lance, a little blonde girl, and a black bird in a gilded cage.

"Sara's the one who should tell you everything," she said, "but…this is her, right?"

The question seemed to have distracted Laurel from her misery, if only for a second, because her crying stopped, and her head jerked in nodding.

"Yeah, I thought so," Helena smiled. "You know, around here, people call her the woman in black but, _where she was_ …she chose to be called The Canary. And I'm thinking" – she tapped her finger against the picture – "it's because of this."

"The Canary?" Laurel echoed, low and rough.

"Why do you think I call her 'birdie'?"

Laurel smiled at that, just the tiniest bit.

"When I first met her," Helena went on, "she told me she'd chosen it because it held a lot of meaning for her." She chuckled, handing the frame over for Laurel to hold. "Should've figured it was about her family."

Of course, it wiped the smile right off Laurel's face; she stared down at the picture with a frown now, but when Helena spoke again, she clutched it to her chest.

"She never forgot you," Helena said. "That's one of the first things she told me, too. That she never let herself forget her family. And from the looks of it, you haven't let yourself forget her either. And, uh, your little problem there" – she gestured to her throat – "isn't going away either, and I'm pretty sure there's no one out there who's more willing to help you figure it out than Sara. So…think about it."

Laurel gave her an odd sort of look. "Since when do you… _care_? About – any of this?"

"I care about Sara," Helena said. "And she cares about you, so…" She shrugged.

Laurel had nothing further to say after that.

There, Helena thought. Her work here was done.

But before she left…

Laurel didn't object – didn't move an inch, really – when Helena rummaged through her kitchen. "I'll take this," she informed, holding up the baking soda she'd found, "since you're the one who interrupted my groceries shopping." She went back to the window. "And when you're done being angry with your sister," she added when she was halfway out, "you know where to find me."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Vigilantes huddling in corners in the dark needed their space.

Well, Oliver did. And she never _really_ gave it to him. But still. She should just stay here on her couch and chew her nails, and leave Sara alone.

And she was terrible at that.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Sara still answered, just loud enough to be heard.

She had her back propped against the wall just below the broken clock face – they really needed to get that fixed – with a gust of wind blowing her hair out every once in a while

"Look, I know this has to be terrible," Felicity tried again, stepping closer. "I mean, first time you talk to your sister in what, six years, and she points a gun at you – "

"She hates me," Sara cut in, looking up. "And I knew she did – how could she not? She has so many reasons to. But I guess I still…" She shrugged. "I guess part of me always hoped that…she would be happy to see me."

Felicity sighed, crossing the tower all the way, and lowering herself to the floor next to Sara.

"I still don't think she hates you," she said. "And that's not a platitude, I'm not just saying it 'cause I think it might make you feel better," she added before Sara could accuse her of doing exactly that, "but I really don't think she hates you. She's definitely angry, but…she doesn't hate you."

"The thing is," she went on, "it's hard being angry with someone who's not there." She swallowed. "I mean, they did this terrible thing to you and then they were gone, and you've got all that anger inside of you, but then you also have to grieve, and you can't do that because you're angry, but you can't really be angry either because…they're gone. So when she saw you tonight, when you weren't gone anymore…I'm guessing it was the first time she could just feel angry."

Sara didn't say anything for a while, until she asked, "Is that experience talking?"

"Sort of," Felicity admitted. "My dad, he…left when I was a kid. Left me and my mom. And I don't know where he is, he could be dead. I mean, I could find out pretty easily, but I'm just never able to, and – okay, we're not talking about my issues right now, so the point is" – she turned her head to the side, to look at Sara – "I kind of get what Laurel's been feeling, all these years. It's not the same, but…I think the principle applies. And I haven't seen my dad in like, twenty years, but when or if I did…I think all I could be is angry, too."

Sara nodded slowly. "Yeah," she whispered.

"Which isn't to say you don't get to be angry and upset, too," Felicity told her. "She did, you know, pull a gun on you. And you've been waiting all this time to see her – somehow, I don't think this was how you envisioned it, or wanted it to go, but I think, if you give her a day or two, she _will_ be happy to see you."

Sara kept her eyes on her for a long time, with a few more tears pooling at the corners. Eventually, she just said, "Thank you."

Felicity gave her a little smile, then shrugged it off. "What are girlfriends for?"

Oh, there she went again.

"And by that I mean _girl_ _friend_ ," she quickly added, "separately, as in a friend that is a girl, not – " She sighed. "You know what, you should just get used to this."

Sara laughed.

It was choppy and kind of scratchy, but she was laughing, letting her head fall back against the wall.

But then Helena was coming out through the hatch, and Sara's laughter died away in two seconds flat.

"How is she?" the question was out of her mouth even quicker.

"Not that great," was Helena's reply. She took a moment to raise an eyebrow at them, where they were huddled together on the floor, and if Felicity wasn't mistaken, she also threw a funny kind of look in there, just for Sara. But it went away as quickly as it had come. "She's got a drinking problem, from the looks of it," she said next, discarding pieces of leather as she went – and a pack of baking soda; Felicity refrained from asking where she'd gotten that.

"And that's not even her biggest problem," Helena went on, "because the booze she picked up on the way home? She blew it right out of her own hand. With her voice."

"I was right," Felicity let out, turning to Sara. "She did break all the glass at QC with all the…screaming."

"I've never seen anything like it," Helena said. "I'd say it's impossible, but…"

"There are more impossible things," Sara muttered.

"Yeah," Helena agreed, walking up to them before she lowered herself on the ground, too, on Sara's other side. "Like that guy who's been running around Central City."

"Yeah, but he got his powers from the STAR Labs particle accelerator explosion."

Both heads turned to her.

Felicity pursed her lips. "Did I mention that I know him?"

"Is there like a secret vigilante club that sits around campfires on Wednesdays or…?" Helena wondered, just as Sara asked, "Any chance it affected Laurel, too?"

"No." Felicity shook her head. "I mean, the – okay, this is like semi-confidential stuff, but the effects were contained to Central City. All the meta-humans – "

" _Meta_ -humans?"

"That's what we're – _they're_ calling them," Felicity said. "And by 'they', I mean the Central City guys. You know, the…guy who's been running and vigilante-ing there. And his people. He calls himself The Flash, actually. _Anyway_. Only the people within the blast radius were affected. The blast was contained to Central City, and I know for a fact that Laurel was right here in Starling when the accelerator blew."

"So it's something else," Sara concluded.

"Has to be. Although…"

"Although – what?"

" _Although_ ," Felicity grinned, "if anyone is ever going to figure out where Laurel's abilities are coming from, it's The Flash and his team. I make one call, and we'll have a full molecular breakdown of Laurel's DNA super quick – in a flash, as it were."

Sara didn't seem to be in much of a joking mood; Helena did crack a smile, though.

"So, when she comes to you," Helena told Sara, "we actually have a good offer to make her."

Whipping her head towards Helena, Sara quietly echoed, " _When_ she comes to me?"

Helena nodded. "Give her a little time," she said. "But she'll be back in that alley waiting for us – for _you_ , in a day or two."

Sara let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as her head bobbed up and down in a nod; Felicity reached out to squeeze her had.

"Well… _when_ she does," Sara said, squeezing back, "I need to make sure I'm not making empty promises."

"I'll get on it," Felicity promised. "Well, in the morning," she amended. "Or… _later_ in the morning." She sighed. "'Cause right now, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a week."

Helena snorted. "Couch's all yours."


	4. Chapter Four

Thea sighed, clicking x on yet another tab; so far, apartment-hunting wasn’t going all that great, mostly because, according to Sin, it was all written in code, and what the code meant was that every place up for rent in this city was a cockroach central in the making.

“I still don’t get why you’re doing this by yourself,” Sin commented. “Don’t you have like, _people_ for that?”

“Yeah,” Thea said, “I have you.”

Sin rolled her eyes. “I’m from the city – from the _Glades_. And you’re used to cribs for royalty, Queen.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Sin raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

“No, I – _I’m_ sorry,” Thea apologized. “It’s just that – I’m not actually a Queen. I never was. So…” _There’s that_.

“So what, you gonna start going by Merlyn now?”

Thea gave her a wry look. “I’m thinking about hyphenating it, actually,” she deadpanned.

“Or you could just drop both,” Sin said, “and go with Dearden.”

Thea looked away. “Not exactly proud to be my mother’s daughter these days either.”

“Right,” Sin muttered.

“You know, that kinda sounds like you’re judging me,” Thea commented.

“I’m not,” Sin denied, “it’s just – your mom seems to actually love you, you know, which is…way more than I ever got from _my_ mom, so…”

“You never really talk about her,” Thea commented. “Or your dad.”

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to tell,” Sin said. “I figure they probably regretted having me the minute I was born, and they made sure I knew it.” She shrugged. “I sort of just walked out of the house when I was thirteen and never came back – and they never bothered to look for me either. They probably think I died somewhere in the streets.”

“Wow,” Thea whispered, “that kind of puts my family feud in perspective.”

“No, look” – Sin shook her head – “it’s different life experiences, right? I’m not gonna judge you if you don’t wanna talk to your mom. I mean, maybe I will, a little, but…silently.”

“Thanks.” Thea laughed under her breath, before turning her attention back to a new ad. Sin slid closer to her on the bed to glance at the screen, then said, “Yeah, there’s no way anyone’s got a place this nice up on 32nd, these are all probably google pics.”

Thea sighed again, turning to look at Sin over her shoulder. “You know, at this rate, I’ll just have to shack up in my office down at Verdant.”

“Honestly, that would be the better option for you.”

Thea elbowed her.

“Whoa, hey – I’m just saying, you wanna do this the normal people way, like find a place by yourself and use your manager’s paycheck money to pay for it, and that’s cool…”

“But?”

“But, the thing with normal people is, they spend months on this stuff and even then, I mean, Starling’s not exactly easy to live in for anyone who’s not a one-percenter.”

Right.

“You’re saying I suck at this.”

“Actually, you’re doing better than I thought you would,” Sin said. “What I _am_ saying is, it’s not gonna be you just snapping your fingers and getting the perfect place for just the right rent, that’s not how it works. But” – she bumped her shoulder – “we _are_ gonna find you something. Just keep in mind that you’re probably gonna get a roach as a pet for a month or two.”

Thea shook her head then paused, looking Sin over before she asked, “Sin, uh…when we do find something, do you maybe want to…move in there with me?”

Sin’s expression became more guarded in the blink of an eye. “Sure you don’t wanna ask Abercrombie first?” she deflected.

“No,” Thea said.

Roy was a liar – like her brother; like her mother. The one thing she had asked him not to do – the _one_ thing – he had gone ahead and done, keeping secrets and lying to her face, while she held him up on a pedestal as the one person who didn’t – who _wouldn’t_ – do that to her. She trusted him. And he was a liar. So, she and him? They were done.

“Besides, he’s not even in Starling anymore,” she added, like the afterthought that it was. He’d left her a message, spouting some apologies she didn’t care for, saying there was nothing left for him in this city, now that she hated him and The Arrow was gone, and that he was going to start off somewhere else. Not that she could say where that would be; she hadn’t bothered listening to the voicemail all the way through.

“I’m sure he’d come back for that,” Sin commented.

“I don’t want him to – and don’t change the subject.”

Sin looked away.

“I’m not gonna get my feelings hurt if you say no,” Thea tried again when Sin didn’t speak. “It’s just like, an offer or whatever.”

“Look, it’s – ” Sin sighed. “It’s really cool of you, to offer that, but…I don’t want to be…one of your charities or something.”

Thea tried not to be offended by that. “You’re my _friend._ ”

“I know,” Sin said, “and you’re mine, but it’s still – I don’t know, it feels weird.”

Okay.

She could accept that.

“Well, then,” she shrugged, “if you ever just need a place to crash, for like a night or something – _mi casa es tu casa._ ”

Sin smiled at that. “Yeah, that feels a little less weird,” she said, then sighed again as she added, “I’ll probably take you up on it, too.”

There was a little something in her tone that gave Thea pause. “Sin?” she prompted.

“It’s nothing,” Sin shrugged it off; expect it definitely was something. “It’s just – I mean, I started crashing at – with The Canary, again, that’s sort of my spot, you know, but it’s getting kinda crowded, so…”

“What, with Helena?”

“Yeah,” Sin said. “And they’ve got this new blonde chick coming up every other day now, they’re like a team or something.” She shrugged again. “It’s not that I’m unwelcome or anything, there’s just the understanding that I’m supposed to butt out of their stuff – which is cool – and the thing’s massive, I can basically crash in ten different places on six different floors, but…”

“But it’s getting crowded,” Thea echoed in understanding.

“Yeah. It used to be just me and Sara there, so – ”

“ _Sara?_ ”

Sin stopped short, clamping her mouth shut.

But she’d heard her.

_Sara._

“That’s her name?” Thea pressed. “The Canary’s? Her name is Sara?”

“Um – Thea, look – ”

She wasn’t listening anymore. Because she was back in the memory of sliding down the staircase with Sara Lance waiting at the bottom, telling her it was reckless, that her parents were right around the corner; she could see her face, crystal-clear – the blue eyes, the pursed lips, the dimples. Just like The Canary’s.

She was familiar because she did know her, because she was –

If her brother could come back from the dead, if Malcolm Merlyn could – then why not Sara Lance?

“Wait, Thea – where are you going?”

She was out of her room and speeding down the hall, to Ollie’s, with Sin at her heels.

Ollie kept photos; like this stash of memories, in boxes and drawers. She knew because she’d caught him, once or twice, going through them – reminding himself of how he used to be so he could pretend he was still the same, probably – then quickly hiding them when she came in without knocking.

She yanked on a drawer, then another, with Sin hovering over her shoulder, saying something – until she hit jackpot.

“This is her, right?” she demanded, turning to Sin as she held up a picture; Sara Lance, with her bangs and her smile, at one of Tommy’s old parties. “Your Sara, The Canary – that’s her, isn’t it?”

Sin said absolutely nothing, but her mouth dropped open a fraction and her eyes widened, so Thea had her answer all the same.

“She’s alive,” Thea huffed a laugh. “Of course she is.” She shook her head. “I have to tell Laurel.”

“What – no!” Sin grabbed her arm.

She shrugged it off. “She needs to know her sister’s _alive._ ”

“No, Thea – she doesn’t want her family to know, you can’t tell – her sister,” Sin said quickly.

“She deserves to know!” Thea raised her voice. “ _Sara_ may want to keep secrets from Laurel, but I won’t!”

“ _Thea_ – ”

She didn’t bother to stay for the rest of it, brushing right past her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I’ve had MIT exams that were easier to understand than these instructions.”

Where she sat cross-legged opposite her, Helena snickered under her breath.

“ _Seriously_ ,” Felicity stressed, because Helena didn’t seem to be getting across her passion about this. “Like” – she waved the booklet up through the air, pointing to the line about the bolts and the screws that didn’t actually _make sense in the English language_ – “what the hell does this even _mean?_ ”

Helena gave a shrug. “We’ll just have to wing it,” was her solution.

Felicity sighed, dropping the instructions manual, if one could call it that, back down with a thud of defeat. “Bested by an IKEA desk,” she lamented.

The – though very nice and pretty and sturdy – IKEA desk that was still scattered in pieces between the two of them, in the middle of the tower.

Sprucing up the tower was only as good as the actual sprucing, so they had gotten on that; Sara had gone out for a quick check-in with her father – so that now he knew that Laurel knew expect Laurel still didn’t know that he knew – which was complicated. Anyway, while Sara did that, she and Helena had taken on the desk. And had subsequently been defeated by said desk.

“If we can’t figure it out in an hour,” Helena proposed, handing over one of the screwdrivers, “we’ll just super-glue it.”

Felicity gave a grumble, wedging the screwdriver between her teeth as she scooped through the pile for the bolts.

She had her eyes on the prize just as the tower’s metal supports clanked above – and, sure enough, when she looked up, it was to Sara doing acrobatics on her way down. Because _of course_ she would come in through the roof.

Felicity rolled her eyes.

She met Helena’s on the downward roll, finding that she’d been doing the same; Helena caught it, too, and smiled.

Felicity tried to do the same, except it probably ended up looking not quite right, what with there being a screwdriver stuck between her teeth; she quickly pulled it out of her mouth. Helena smiled wider.

“How’s it going?” Sara asked, eyes going over the mess.

“I’m pretty sure it’s easier to make meth,” Felicity said.

Helena made a little face, as though she didn’t entirely disagree with that assessment, then looked up at Sara and prompted, “How did it go on _your_ end?”

Sara deflated. “Dad’s upset,” she said. “Not that Laurel knows, but that I’m not _making_ her talk to me. He’s been wanting me to talk to her, tell her I’m alive, but he just – doesn’t seem to get that _she_ doesn’t want to talk to _me._ ”

“Yet,” Felicity felt compelled to point out.

Sara gave a little nod. “Yet,” she echoed softly, starting to smile; Felicity grinned back. She was pretty sure she caught Helena making another face out of the corner of her eye, too.

And then both she and Sara were tensing; it was only when a knock sounded against the hatch door that Felicity realized they had probably felt someone making their way up – because they had vigilante super-senses or something.

Three quick taps on the metal meant that it was Sin knocking, and Sara immediately sped past them to let her up.

From what Felicity had gathered, Sin and Sara were close, and Sin had once again picked up what was apparently an old habit of hanging out in the tower, on one of the lower levels, for a place to sleep; she hadn’t even known of the girl until she had freaked out one night because _‘someone is moving around down there, why are you not concerned about this?’_ and it had taken both Helena and Sara to explain that _‘no, relax, it’s just Sin’._

And since they were both cool with Sin hanging around, Felicity decided that she was, too; she really didn’t mind. Sin was nice. Or so she had seemed from the exactly two seconds of interaction they’d had, which had mostly just been limited to Sin saying, _“yo”._

Still, Sin seemed nice and laid back – _chill_ , was the word that came to mind. Which was why it came as a surprise when she up through the hatch looking on the verge of tears, almost shaking.

Sara was immediately on alert. “Sin? What happened, what’s wrong?”

“I – ” Sin gulped. “I messed up.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sara soothed, just as Helena began rising to her feet. “Tell me what happened.”

Felicity clambered to her feet, too, eyeing her tablet the same way Helena was eyeing her crossbow. Except, Felicity thought, Sin wasn’t looking at Sara like she was afraid and about to ask for help; it was more like she was…ashamed.

“I was…with Thea,” Sin said, voice wavering, “and we were talking, and – I slipped up, okay, I messed up, I said your name was Sara, and she – I don’t know, she just – figured it out, who you are, I – I’m so sorry.”

Oh.

Yeah, that wasn’t good.

“She went to tell your sister, I couldn’t stop her, I – I’m so sorry, Sara.”

Sara said nothing for a while. Then just brought an arm around Sin and pulled her into a hug.

“It’s okay,” she repeated softly. “Don’t be upset.”

Sin still sniffled as she hugged back. “But she’ll – ”

“My sister’s already seen me,” Sara cut her off gently. “Thea won’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know.”

“But Thea knows, too,” Sin said, voice small and quiet.

Sara said nothing again, and the lines of her profile weren’t easy to read either; eventually, she just gave a sigh.

Which Sin may have interpreted as one of unspoken anger, because she pulled back, looking at Sara like she was ashamed again. “I’m sorry,” she said it again, too. “I’m really – ”

“Don’t be.” Sara shook her head. “We all slip up.”

She was still gentle and comforting, and Felicity thought she might be faking the extent of her magnanimity for Sin’s benefit.

“Though that means,” she added, quietly, “you know who I am, too.”

Sin gave a little shrug, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Don’t really care.”

Sara smiled at that, running a hand down Sin’s arm. “I do need to find Thea now,” she said after a moment. “Talk to her.”

“She’s probably – at your sister’s place.”

“Yeah.” Sara nodded, giving Sin’s arm one last squeeze before moving to get her gear. “You wanna stay here?” she tossed over her shoulder.

Sin looked hesitant. “I don’t know. You guys” – she looked over to Helena and Felicity – “kinda look like you’re busy with stuff, so…”

Felicity knew the voice of a person who thought they were unwelcome when she heard it, so all things considered, she decided it was probably her duty to convince Sin otherwise. “No, it’s fine,” she said, putting on her best smile. “Besides, we’re getting nowhere with this” – she threw the disassembled pile on the floor a dirty look – “ _thing._ And plus, we’ve got a fridge now and everything, so there’s food and drinks and stuff, if you want something.”

Sin still looked a little uncomfortable, casting a glance to Sara then Helena, before she eventually agreed with a nod and a, “Sure.”

Felicity beamed.

It got a little smile out of Sin, too.

Then Helena took over, walking Sin over to their fridge and through the contents of the various tupperwares – blue for Chinese, red for Big Belly, green for the weird assorted raw seeds Sara had made them buy.

She caught Sara’s eye, where she was shrugging on her jacket, and mimicked holding up a phone to her ear, mouthing a _‘call if you need anything’_ just for good measure.

With a smile – that was more on the half-hearted side, really – and a nod of acknowledgement, Sara was out the floor hatch; Felicity decided to shelve her _‘It’s nice using doors every once in a while, isn’t it?’_ comment for when she returned.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thea’s first impression was that Laurel looked terrible; circles under bloodshot eyes, skin pale and ashen, and the faint smell of wine on her breath.

But she was still alert the moment she saw her on her doorstep.

“Thea,” she said, arms already outstretched, “did something happen?”

Thea accepted the hug gladly, though she felt like she was hugging more bathrobe than Laurel.

“I kind of have something to tell you,” Thea replied as she pulled back.

“Of course, yeah, come in.” Laurel ushered her inside, locking the door behind her, while Thea took in the apartment. It was neat and tidy, because Laurel was, but there was still one-too-many an empty bottle laying around and – was that glass on the floor?

She turned back to Laurel. “Why is your window broken?”

“Oh, that,” Laurel muttered, going for a smile that never really went through. “Just a little…accident.” She curled her hand around her throat, before she dropped it back down, looking self-conscious. “Anyway, uh,” she changed the subject, “you said you had something to tell me?”

“Laurel,” Thea prompted instead of answering, “are you okay?”

Laurel looked like she might give a false reassurance, but gave up halfway through. “Not really,” she said, shrugging a little.

“What happened?”

Laurel shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re like my big sister, Laurel,” Thea said quietly. “Of course I worry.”

Laurel opened her mouth but nothing came out; she just gave her a smile instead, a genuine one, before she reached up to smooth her hair.

“And I couldn’t be more proud if you were my own little sister,” she told her, but there was still some sadness in her eyes, and Thea knew she was thinking of Sara. “I know I haven’t checked up on you in a while,” she said next, like she was apologizing, “but if something’s going on – ”

“Laurel,” Thea interrupted gently, “what I have to tell you, it’s…it’s not about me.”

Laurel frowned a little, but still looked expectant, waiting for her to continue.

Thea took a deep breath. “I found out something today, and – I know how it’s going to sound, at first,” she said, “but I wouldn’t be telling you if I wasn’t sure. You deserve to know, Laurel, you deserve to know the truth.”

Laurel nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“The woman in black, the one in the Glades, with The Huntress – that’s Sara. Your Sara. She’s alive.”

There.

One less secret.

Except –

Laurel didn’t look surprised.

She looked kind of shaken, and tearful, but…not surprised.

“I know, Thea,” she whispered. “I know it’s her.”

“Wait, you – you do?”

“Yeah.” Laurel sniffled, nodding. “Found out a couple of days ago. It’s” – she shrugged – “kind of one of the reasons I haven’t been okay.”

All Thea could think of saying was just, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Laurel muttered. “But thank you. For coming here to tell me.”

“You deserve to know the truth,” Thea repeated, again, because it was like a mantra echoing in her head. “Laurel, there’s – ”

“I don’t want to know,” Laurel cut her off, shaking her head. “Whatever more there is, that you want to tell me, about Sara, I – Thea, I don’t want to know.”

Thea almost fought her on it.

Because she should know. She should know that her sister was asking around about Malcom Merlyn, that she was afraid of the same people he was, _she should know that._

But Laurel looked like might literally fall apart if she pulled any more on that thread, so Thea let it go, and then let herself be ushered out, with Laurel promising she would check up on her more.

Thea really felt like that promise should have been given the other way around.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Hi, Thea.”

She stopped halfway to her car, turning, to see The Cana – to see _Sara_ , stepping out from the shadows like she’d previously been melted into them.

“You know,” Thea commented, “the mask is kind of pointless right now, considering I know who you are underneath it.”

Sara gave a little nod as she walked over, reaching up to take it off; it fell away, along with her wig, and Thea found herself staring at yet another dead person walking. She was used to it by now; it had been such an odd, powerful feeling, the first time, when she’d seen Ollie again. That he was the same but different, a sort of distorted memory coming back to life. But this was her – third? Third, rodeo, and the feeling was just a dull tug in her chest. Everyone came back from the dead.

Well, not everyone. Not her fath – not Robert Queen. Not Tommy.

Sara stepped up to her, keeping a little distance, as she said, “So does Laurel.”

Thea pursed her lips. “Right.”

“Which is fortunate,” Sara told her, “but it was never your place to tell her.”

“I didn’t think _you_ would.”

Sara’s expression grew harder around the edges. “Still not your place.”

“She had the right to know.”

“I was – ”

“Oh, what are you gonna say, that you were protecting her?” Thea let out. “With lies and secrets, because that was going to keep her safe? Guess what, it doesn’t! It never does!”

She only realized she’d raised her voice when it echoed in the alley.

She blew out a breath, swallowing against the lump that was suddenly in her throat.

It took a moment for Sara to speak again. “I know you were hurt, Thea, that you had the truth kept from you – ”

“Kept from me?” Thea echoed bitterly. “My entire _life_ was built on a lie. I’m not Thea Queen.” She shook her head. “I’m the daughter of a mass murder and the woman who helped him do it, one of my brothers – no, one of my _half_ -brothers is a liar, and my other half-brother died before I even knew he _was_ my half-brother – ” She broke off on a gulp, looking away.

“I understand,” Sara said, “but all of this, Thea, it’s…it’s more complicated than you know.”

“What’s so complicated?” Thea challenged, eyes cutting back to Sara. “That you’re being chased by the same people who are after Merlyn, is that what’s complicated? Laurel should know that, too.”

Sara stiffened, tilting her head in warning.

“And if you wanted to protect her,” Thea still barreled on, “if you wanted her safe, then you would tell her, because she’s _not_ safe by being a sitting duck for – whatever nut jobs are after _you._ ”

Even with all of that hurled at her, Sara only asked, “Did you tell her?”

Thea chewed on her tongue. “No,” she said. “I wanted to, but… _she_ didn’t want to hear any more about you.”

She almost felt bad, at seeing the way Sara flinched.

“Well, it’s good.” Sara nodded. “Because these aren’t things you should be repeating to people. It’s reckless.”

That was funny, Thea thought. Sara Lance telling her not to be reckless.

“Why, because you can’t have any more truth spread around?”

“No,” Sara said, and it sounded on the side of impatient, “it’s because, if Laurel is in danger by being my sister, then you are in danger by being Merlyn’s daughter. These people, they make their targets come to them, that’s what they do, and if they knew – ” She stepped closer. “Thea, if they knew you were his daughter, they would come after you, they would _use_ you to get him. And the _fastest_ way to get on their radar is to keep spreading what you know about them to everyone who can hear you.”

Thea swallowed again.

“But I _don’t_ know about them,” she pointed out quietly. “I don’t actually know anything. Because no one wants to tell me the truth.”

She probably sounded twelve again as she said it, if the way Sara’s eyes softened was any indication. It wasn’t too far from how she felt either; about as vulnerable and clueless as a child.

Sara ducked her head next, licking her lips; she seemed to be debating something with herself, before she gave a little nod and looked up. “I can tell you,” was apparently what she had decided, “about Malcolm, about who’s after him. But _this_ ,” she stressed, “is for your ears only.”

Thea nodded quickly. “Okay.”

Sara blew out a breath. “Malcolm Merlyn was _Al Sa-Her_ , of the League of Assassins,” she spoke, raising her chin, “and Ra’s al Ghul wants him dead.”

Thea blinked.

“What – ” She shook her head. “What does that even mean?”

“There is an ancient sect of warriors – of killers,” Sara said, “led by a man called Ra’s al Ghul – The Demon’s Head. They are the League of Assassins. And they replace evil with death.”

That just –

Sounded like something out of stories meant to scare children.

“Merlyn was one of them,” Sara went on, “and Ra’s al Ghul released him. But his Undertaking broke the terms of that release. So now,” she concluded, “Ra’s won’t rest until he’s dead.”

It still sounded like a children’s story.

But Sara told it all grave and serious, not like tales of monsters under kids’ beds.

So Thea believed her.

“And these…assassins,” she said once Sara was done, “they’d use me as bait to get Malcolm, if they knew?”

Sara only nodded.

“Wouldn’t they use Laurel the same way?” Thea asked. “Or your father? Your mother?”

Sara looked away again. “They would,” she agreed.

“So – why aren’t you doing anything about it?” Thea let out. “Why aren’t you – I don’t know.”

Sara’s eyes were still on the far wall as she said, “I’m holding out hope that I still have one last card to play.” She shook her head next. “And I’ve already told you what I can, Thea.”

“Guess that’s more than what I get out of most people,” Thea commented. “It’s funny, right, that I get more out of some ancient sect assassin than my own family?”

Sara looked over again at that.

“You were one of them, too.” Thea shrugged. “Like Malcolm.”

“I still am,” Sara corrected, an odd sort of sad smile at the corner of her mouth. “They never released _me._ ”

“So why are they after you?”

“Because I ran,” Sara said simply, and seemed to think this put an end to their entire conversation, because she was putting her mask and wig back in place.

Then, she seemed to have one last afterthought. “I get that secrets hit you where it hurts,” she told her, “but there are _some_ secrets that aren’t yours to tell. And,” she added, even as she backed away, “you should apologize to Sin.”

Thea’s stomach lurched at that.

Sin was basically the one friend she had, the one that she trusted, and she’d left her upset and panicked at the mansion.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” she said quietly.

Sara nodded, and went back into the shadows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Sin, you’re a miracle worker.”

“I second that,” Helena said from behind her, handing Sin the freshly reheated burgers and fries that were her reward for helping them defeat the desk from hell.

Sin shrugged. “You spend as much time as me out on the streets, you learn to – you know, tinker.”

“Still,” Felicity maintained, “thank you.”

Sin saluted her with a french fry.

“Any chance you’d be willing to stick around and help us with the file cabinets?” Helena asked.

“ _Temporary_ file cabinets,” Felicity felt obligated to point out, even as she hauled a box of reasons _why_ they needed those file cabinets up on her – new and really very pretty – desk. “Until I can bring the rest of my equipment here,” she explained from Sin’s benefit, when the latter came over to peek into the box, “including the digital store space I need, we’re going analog and writing everything down. On _paper._ ” She sighed. “Which hurts me. In my soul.”

Sin licked some grease off her fingers, then flipped open the first folder in the box. “Keeping score?” she asked.

“Keeping _track,_ ” Felicity corrected.

Sin looked like she thought it just about amounted to the same difference.

Helena must have noticed the look, too, because while Felicity was gearing up for further clarifications, she asked, “You think we do this for the fame?”

“Well, I don’t know how much more famous _you_ can get – ”

Helena’s mouth ticked at the corner.

“And it’s not that,” Sin said. “I know you’re not about the fame and the glory and all that – well, Sara isn’t, I don’t think you’d be any different.”

“But?”

Sin shrugged. “Well, you’re like, cleaning up or – no, wait, _saving_ the city. And by that, I mostly mean The Glades, which...don’t get me wrong, every creep that faces off against you in a dark alley gets what he deserves, but…” She shrugged again. “You’re not _from_ The Glades. You swoop in and do the vigilante thing, but at the end of the day, you…you’re still not one of us. You don’t _know_ us. Like, with this stuff – ” She pointed to the file she’d flipped open; the one about the terrible high that was The Triad’s latest outsourced product.

Helena leaned in closer, as did Felicity, and while _she_ meant to offer something along the lines of _‘we got a horrible, dangerous drug out of circulation, what’s the big deal?’_ , Helena preempted her again and asked, “You’re saying we cut it off at the wrong level?”

Felicity frowned, but Sin said, “Kinda, yeah.” After a moment, she added, “And you didn’t really cut off anything. This stuff’s still circulating.”

Felicity frowned harder. “It is?”

Sin nodded. “It’s really cheap, so obviously there’s gonna be a market.”

“We didn’t hear anything more about it.”

“Remember how I just said you’re not _from_ The Glades?” Sin said. “You don’t hear the stuff I do. And I’m telling you, this drug is still out there, it’s just more under the radar.”

Felicity pursed her lips. “Guess that’s we get for treating the wound and not the infection.”

Both Sin and Helena turned to her with identical looks of confusion. 

She sighed. “I spent way too much time with Ol – The Arrow.”

Helena gave a little hum of agreement, then said, “You’re sure, though, Sin? About the drug?”

“Yeah.” Sin gave a firm nod. “Someone died of it a few days back.”

“Friend of yours?” Helena asked, voice softer than before.

“More like the friend of a friend. But I know about it. He OD’ed on the stuff – they’re not sure how, he didn’t even take that much, but…actually, that’s not even the weirdest thing about it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, the thing is,” Sin said, “they were freaking out about it, said it wasn’t like any OD they’d ever seen – like, when they found him, he had all this blood running from his _eyes._ ”

“Who had blood running from his eyes?”

Sin jumped so hard she rattled the desk, Felicity shrieked, and even Helena gave a little jolt, but Sara didn’t seem to care one bit that she’d startled them; her eyes were firmly on Sin. “ _Who_ had blood running from his eyes?” she asked again, more forcefully.

“Uh – one of – a guy some of my friends knew,” Sin spoke up after a moment, prompting Sara to cross the rest of the way over to them, where they were huddled around the file. “He…shot up with some of that cheap stuff you busted The Triad’s suppliers for…died from it. And when they found him, he…well, had blood running from his eyes.”

Sara barely seemed to be listening by the end of it, just staring at the notes in the file, but she didn’t seem to be seeing any of that either; she had the same kind of haunted, faraway look in her eyes that Felicity had seen on Oliver, when he’d realized Slade Wilson was alive.

“Sara,” Helena prompted, “have you seen this before?”

Sara swallowed. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “On Lian Yu.”


	5. Chapter 5

“The Mira…kuru?” Felicity enunciated slowly, eyebrow raised.

She shot a glance at Helena, who only stared straight ahead, at Sara, eyes narrowed.

They’d sent Sin away, down to her little bunk on one of the lower levels with all the fries and burgers that she could carry. It was only then that Sara had started talking, from where she stood tightly-wound in the middle of the tower.

“The miracle cure,” Sara said, chin dipping in a slight nod. “Created by the Japanese back in World War II. It could repair any tissue damage, heal any broken bone, any illness, bring the dying back to life…make them strong. _Inhumanly_ strong.”

“You’ve told me about it before,” Felicity suddenly realized. “You said that’s why you were on Lian Yu, because Anthony Ivo was looking for it. You…you gave it to Slade Wilson.”

Again, Sara nodded. “Yeah. That’s the only reason he’s alive. But the…the Mirakuru, it has…terrible side effects. Those who survive the injection become… Let’s just say that those who _don’t_ survive it are probably the lucky ones in that deal.”

Felicity gulped. “Is that why Slade is so…off his rocker?” she asked. “Because this thing messed with his head?”

Sara sighed. “Probably.”

“So, is he the one who brought this big great miracle to Starling?” Helena prompted. “Or is the other one? Ivo?”

“Ivo’s dead,” Sara said flatly.

Helena raised an eyebrow. “By your hand?”

“Oliver’s,” Sara said. “He killed him so I wouldn’t have to.”

Helena actually rolled her eyes there, then simply stated, “So it’s Wilson.”

“He must have stuck around,” Felicity said quietly. “After Queen Consolidated.” She swallowed. “He’s still in Staling.”

But Sara was shaking her head. “Even if he is, he can’t have the drug. We destroyed every sample of it on Lian Yu.”

“But it’s still in his system, right? I’m sure it can be…extracted.”

Sara faltered at that one. “I…suppose,” she conceded at length. 

After a tense moment, where Felicity was trying her hardest not to feel afraid and Sara looked like she might be striving for the same, Helena spoke up.

“What I’m more interested in is,” she said, “what’s his endgame?” She raised her eyebrows pointedly. “Why circulate this stuff through the Triad? Why put it out in the streets in the first place? And if only one person died from it,” she added before Sara could cut in, “does that mean all the others are like Wilson now? Jacked up on the same thing that messed with his head?”

Sara’s breathing quickened, chest rising and falling fast; she closed her eyes for a beat, then gave a firm shake of her head. “I saw the drug when we busted the lab. The color was off, it was too…diluted. The concentration was too low.”

Helena frowned. “You can eyeball it like that?”

“I spent a lot of time around the Mirakuru,” Sara said. “Studying it, and keeping logs, and watching what it did to…” She trailed off there, eyes wide and unfocused, like something had just dawned on her.

“It’s an experiment,” she let out. “He’s testing it. Trying to find the right dosage to make it work.”

Felicity’s lip curled in disgust. “Pretty sure that to call it an experiment, he’d need to actually have his subjects’ consent first,” she commented.

Sara’s eyes cut over to her, and Felicity thought she looked distinctly…uncomfortable.

“But he’s found an expedient way to test it,” Helena said. “Taking advantage of people in The Glades.”

“Yeah,” Sara agreed quietly, before looking away.

Felicity made to remark upon a few things – namely, what it was exactly about the ethics of human experimentation that had Sara hunching her shoulders – but then something more pressing struck her. “Wouldn’t Slade know, too?” she asked. “That the thing was too…diluted? Even if he didn’t spend any time on the science of it, he’d be able to eyeball it, too, wouldn’t he?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed then widened, and Helena prompted, “So – what? It’s not Slade doing this?”

“I suppose…he could have been working with someone,” Sara allowed.

“And if this someone’s fumbling with the dosage, then Slade’s probably not around to – you know, eyeball it for them,” Felicity said, then sighed in relief; Slade wasn’t in Starling.

Still, Sara rubbed her forehead. “It’s all just a guessing game,” she muttered, voice tinged with frustration.

“Then we’ll just get on finding some real answers,” Helena said simply.

Sara let out a breath, but eventually, she nodded.

Then Helena added, like an afterthought, “Your past is always following you around somehow, isn’t it, Birdie?”

Sara said nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“ _So, that’s dead end number five,_ ” Felicity declared. “ _Maybe you should call it a night._ ”

“We’ve still got time for another one,” Sara said.

“ _True, but you could also spend that time – oh, I don’t know. Sleeping?_ ”

Helena glanced at Sara, who didn’t respond. Didn’t even crack a smile.

She almost felt bad for Felicity.

“ _That’s a negative then,_ ” the latter could be heard again, all peppiness gone; now Helena really did feel bad.

“You know what, Felicity’s right,” she said. “We’re not getting anywhere tonight.”

“We have to keep looking,” Sara maintained, not even glancing at her as she did, eyes still going over the city from the rooftop they were on – like if she only looked hard enough, Slade’s partner would just pop out in front of them.

“We will,” Helena remained steady, too. “But we also need to regroup.”

Sara stayed stiff for a beat longer, before her shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. “You’re right,” she admitted, then addressed Felicity, “We’re heading back to the tower.” And with that, she took out her comm.

Helena shut hers off, too. “I’ve never seen you this worked up about anything,” she commented.

“You haven’t known me that long,” Sara said, though with a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe,” Helena conceded. “But still…the only thing I’ve ever seen get to you is your family.” She quirked a smile, too. “You’ve got hidden depths.”

Finally, Sara turned to meet her eyes. “I need you to understand,” she spoke, solemnly, “what we’re dealing with here.”

Helena straightened.

“You know what Slade did,” Sara went on. “To Felicity, to Laurel – and I know you don’t care about this part, but to Oliver, too.” After a beat, she added, “To me.” She swallowed. “I am what I am because of it. If not for him, if not for the Mirakuru, I would have been home _years_ ago. So, _imagine,_ ” she stressed, “even just another one like him. What they could do. To all of us.”

What a cheerful picture she painted.

Still, Helena nodded her understanding. “So, when we find them, this partner of Wilson’s – what do you want to do with them?”

“Put them down.”

And there she was. _Ta-er al-Asfer_ of the League of Assassins.

“You know, some might call this regressing,” Helena said.

“Not you, though.”

Helena shook her head. “Not me.”

Sara smiled. She put her hands on the ledge, eyes on the city again.

“One of these days,” she said, “whoever’s doing this will find the right dosage. And then this entire city will be a ticking time-bomb.”

Helena sighed. “Well, maybe, until we find them…it’s like Sin said. We can take out a supplier, but this thing will eat through The Glades as long as there’s a demand.” She pursed her lips. “What was it you said to me once, about how The League gets to their targets?”

Sara turned to her, frowning. “Making their targets come to them?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Helena smirked, meeting Sara’s eyes. “Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve trying to find using what we know, but it _is_ like Sin said – we’re not from The Glades. But _she_ is. And she’s – ” her lip twitched – “connected. So why don’t we flush this guy out using the people he’s hurting in the first place?”

Like clouds parting after a storm, Sara’s lips curved into a smile. “That might work.”

“Yeah, I mean, hey – we’re saving this city, right?” Helena shrugged. “So why not give this city a chance to save itself?”

Sara nodded. “We’ll talk to Sin again,” she said, then cocked her head, signaling they ought to get going.

But then birds started chirping on the empty rooftop.

Frowning, Sara grabbed for her phone. She barely had it to her ear before Helena could hear Felicity saying, “ _Why did you take out your comms? We have them for a reason, you know._ ”

Sara simply responded with, “What is it?”

“ _You may wanna take a detour before heading back, corner of 8 th and Simone street, alley behind the Japanese place._”

“Wait, that’s…”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Felicity said. “ _Laurel’s waiting._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I’ll give you two a moment.”

Sara barely heard Helena, barely registered her moving away.

Laurel stood in front of her, arms crossed and shoulders stiff.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Laurel echoed softly.

There were so many things she wanted to say. To apologize, to ask her how she was – to tell her sister she loved her.

But before she could, Laurel was speaking. “You said – ” she cleared her throat – “you could help me with…my problem.”

Sara swallowed. “Yeah.”

“How?”

“Um, remember Felicity Smoak?” Sara asked, going for a smile.

Laurel frowned. “Of course.”

“Well, she’s got friends who…deal with this sort of thing. She can send them a blood sample for analysis. They’ll figure out what happened to you.”

Shoulders hunched, Laurel gave a little nod. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, let’s do that.”

“I’ll set it up,” Sara promised.

“Right, then just…let me know,” Laurel mumbled, turning to leave.

“Laurel, wait.”

She stopped, back to her, fists clenching at her sides. Sara took a slow, cautious step forward. “Talk to me?”

Laurel hung her head. “What’s even there to talk about?”

“I’m sure you have questions.”

She huffed. “Just one, actually,” she said, whirling around; there were tears in her eyes. “Why didn’t you come back?”

Of course she’d start with the hardest one. “I…I couldn’t. I fell in with some people, and…I couldn’t leave.”

Laurel gave her a onceover, from the tips of her boots, over the leather, until she met her eyes behind the mask. “Is that where you got the get-up?”

Sara shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Could’ve called.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, of course not. Why do I even bother asking why when I already know the answer?” Laurel chuckled, hollow and bitter. “Why didn’t you tell us you were alive? Why did you even come back? Why did you wait weeks to show your face to me? And the answer is – ” she threw her arms out – “it’s because you’re Sara. You do whatever the hell you want, and damn the consequences and anyone who gets hurt!”

She might as well have hurled stones at her.

“I know you’re angry,” Sara said, “and I understand. Especially after…after what happened with Slade Wilson. But I – ” she gulped – “I was hoping you could find it in your heart to forgive me. I love you so much, Laurel.”

The tears ran down Laurel’s cheeks.

“I know I can’t undo what happened, and I am so sorry – ” now she was crying, too, and she hastily wiped at her eyes – “that you suffered because of what I did, but…I do love you. And I’ve missed you.” She shook her head. “There hasn’t been a day in the last six years that I haven’t thought about you.”

Laurel was shaking, more and more tears just spilling over. But she didn’t move an inch from her spot, didn’t say a single word.

And so Sara fell back.

“I’ll set everything up with Felicity,” she said, barely managing to speak at all.

Apparently there was no forgiveness for what she had done.

She turned away, getting out of there as fast as her legs would carry her. All she could do was just run.

“Sara…”

But the moment Laurel called to her, she spun back around.

Slowly, like it was being dragged by a thousand weights, Laurel’s hand rose in the air, her unsteady fingers flexing and reaching out.

And Sara ran to hug her sister.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Careful with that!”

Heaving the heavy box into her arms, Helena gave her a look.

“It’s very fragile computer equipment,” Felicity said.

“Really?” Helena deadpanned. “’Cause I didn’t gather that from two hours you spent packing it and telling me about it.”

Felicity bit her lip. “Okay, point taken. Take it away.”

Helena raised an eyebrow, moving to take it to the truck with the rest but not before – cruelly, pettily – feigning to almost drop it. She even smirked over her shoulder when Felicity let out a strangled cry.

From where she was tucking the rocket launcher into its cozy little crate, Sara snickered.

“Oh, fine, take her side,” Felicity groused.

Sara only smiled wider. “You’re cute when you get all worked up about your gear like this.”

In the days since Laurel had, for all intents and purposes, met her sister halfway when it came to burying the hatchet, Felicity had come to learn that a happy Sara was also a flirty Sara. And really, how was she supposed to resist that? She was only human. With a tendency to crush on vigilantes.

“Is there any time when you _don’t_ think I’m cute?”

Sara’s smile softened. “Not really.”

Felicity put all of her energy into not returning something so sweet with, _‘and you’re always really hot.’_

“Thanks,” she said instead.

Sara flashed her a quick grin before she picked up a hammer and started nailing the crate shut. Felicity was also thankful that she had chosen to do so in a tank top. Her muscles moved with every lift and drop, and honestly, Felicity just wanted to like, _lick_ all of them.

“A couple more hours down here,” Sara was saying, “and I think we’ll have gotten everything we need.”

Abandoning thoughts of inappropriate licking, Felicity looked around. The foundry was getting barer by the minute, all but stripped down to its bones.

“You sure you’re really okay with this?” Sara asked softly.

“Yeah,” Felicity said. “We need all this stuff. So what’s the point in just leaving it here collecting dust?”

The last nail hit the wood, and Sara wiped her hands, slowly moving closer to her. “You got all this thinking you’d get to use it with Oliver,” she pointed out. “And Digg.”

“I’m repurposing it.”

Sara gave a little hum of agreement. “Still, it can’t be easy,” she said, “to walk away from _this_ place.”

Felicity shrugged, turning to meet Sara’s eyes. “It’s easier when I have somewhere to go.”

It earned her a little smile, and Sara ran a hand down her arm.

“I, um, I wanted to say thank you,” Felicity said, quietly. “Because without you, and Helena, well – I wouldn’t. Have somewhere to go from here, I mean. So…thanks.”

“I should be thanking you,” Sara said with a little purse of her lips. “Helena’s not going to say it, but _you’re_ the one who’s giving _us_ somewhere to belong. You’re the one who gave us a true purpose in this city.”

If Helena hadn’t chosen that moment to come back in, Felicity probably would have kissed her.

“Come on, Birdie,” Helena was saying, “help me with the launcher.”

Sara’s eyes lingered on her before she turned to the crate, and Felicity bit her lip, watching her go. This wasn’t all just in her head, right? There was something between them.

What was that thing about romance in the workplace again?

Sara, Helena and the crate went out of sight, and Felicity huffed out a loud breath in the silence.

Just a couple more hours down here, and then she’d never come back again. In all the time she had spent here – buying and setting up equipment, lining the shelves with weapons and gadgets, making this place a home –, she never thought that one day she’d be leaving it, too.

She didn’t want to go overboard with the dramatics, talking about ends of eras and stuff like that, but honestly, when she’d made the executive call that today was gonna be the day they were finally packing up the equipment and moving it from the foundry to the Clocktower, she’d really expected she would cry about it more. But…

She’d already said goodbye to this place. And now it was time to finally move on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So,” Helena said, “did I interrupt something back there?”

Sara gave her a look.

“Oh, come on – ” Helena smirked – “what’s a better time for girl talk than when we’re secretly loading a rocket launcher into the back of a stolen truck?”

“We’ll return the truck,” Sara said.

“That’s a no on the girl talk then?”

With a final push and a quiet sigh, Sara got the crate all the way in. “Felicity is…special,” she eventually said, a softness to her voice. “You know I’ve always thought that.”

Helena nodded. “I also know there’s someone you left behind when you ran,” she said. “Or have you stopped thinking about her?”

Sara stilled, then hung her head. “No,” she admitted. “I still miss her, sometimes.”

“I assume Felicity doesn’t know about her?”

“No.”

Maybe this was different, but Helena seemed to remember messy love triangles being the thing that had literally killed her.

“Look, Sara,” she said, “the only part of what happens between you and Felicity that’s my business is how it affects all three of us, but you owe her at least the truth.”

Sara turned to her, understanding in her eyes. She nodded. “I know you hate dishonesty.”

Helena shrugged. “I just know what it’s like to feel used.”

Sara only nodded again, saying nothing.

Helena made to suggest they go back for the rest of the boxes when a streak of purple caught her eye. She sidestepped the truck, looking to the sky. The loading dock behind Verdant didn’t offer a great view, but she could still see it against the setting sun; purple smoke rising above the city.

“What the hell is that?” she asked.

Sara’s answer was long to come. “I don’t know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The system came online, and Felicity grinned.

Her computers were spread out on the table, booting up. The desk by the wall was cluttered with the ammo they hadn’t stored yet and Sara’s sonic devices, all piled up next to the first batch of hard copies to be digitized. The shelves and drawers were stuffed with weapons, cables and wires, and Helena’s arrows. The fridge hummed in sync with the sandwich heating up in the microwave. Lights lined the high walls, with lamps in the corners, too, completely chasing away the darkness.

The clock face was still broken, but honestly, Felicity was starting to like it that way.

The Clocktower was all dolled up – and there was no one here to celebrate it with her.

Sara had mentioned meeting her father, Helena was checking out something about purple smoke, Sin was – actually, she had no idea what Sin was doing. The point was, it was just her up here.

She didn’t mind, though, spinning round in the middle of the tower, smiling to herself; if she had the voice for it, she’d break out into song. Her new home was perfect.

Her phone buzzed on the table.

“Hi, Barry,” she answered with a smile.

“ _Hi, Felicity,_ ” he said, and – still sounded so terribly forlorn.

He’d been the same way when he had come to pick up the sample of Laurel’s blood, looking like a kicked puppy and muttering something about the love of his life finding out he was The Flash by accident and being angry with him.

“You still feeling down?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“Iris still not talking to you?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

She pressed her lips together. It wasn’t funny. And she wasn’t going to laugh at her friend’s misery. Because she was a good person.

“I’m sorry,” she offered instead. “I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

Barry made a noncommittal noise, then grumbled something about _‘why do I listen to Joe?’_ under his breath.

Then there was some kind of muttered arguing, and it was Caitlin’s voice floating through. “ _Hi, Felicity! You’re on speaker._ ”

“Hi, Caitlin,” Felicity said dutifully, then added, “And hi, Cisco.”

She could hear him starting to return the greeting, but Caitlin was already talking over him. _“I ran the molecular breakdown on the sample you sent over,”_ she was saying, all her words strung together like she couldn’t get them out fast enough; Felicity had never known Caitlin could even _get_ this excited about things.

“So you found something?”

_“Yes!”_ Caitlin exclaimed, and Felicity jumped away from the phone. _“It’s amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it! I mean, yes, of course I have, I analyze about ten metahuman DNA samples a week – ”_

“So it _is_ metahuman?” Felicity cut in, frowning.

“ _Well, yes and no,_ ” Caitlin said. “ _The DNA you sent over shows mutations that are remarkably similar to what you might find in a metahuman’s cells, and obviously, you said this person had abilities, so…_ ”

“Right.”

_“But I found three separate genetic sequences which – I mean, you are familiar with the concept of junk DNA, of course?”_

“Of course.”

_“Well, I ran some cultures and tests, and it seems that some parts of your friend’s DNA, which are usually dormant in humans, are actively working to synthesize three different proteins – neither of which match anything I’ve ever seen, in metahumans or otherwise._

_“And what’s most interesting about it,”_ Caitlin went on without a pause, sounding like she was _vibrating_ with excitement, _“is that I found a mutation that seems to be what triggered the activity. Do you understand what this means?”_

“That…metahuman-like abilities can occur spontaneously in nature?”

_“YES!”_

Felicity jumped away again.

_“I mean, of course,”_ Caitlin amended, _“we have no way to tell what caused the original mutation, it’s possible that whoever she inherited it from was exposed to some kind of – ”_

“Wait, wait, back up,” Felicity said. “Did you just say – did you just say Lau – my friend – that she _inherited_ this?”

_“Oh right, yes. The mutation I found was in the cells’ mitochondrial DNA.”_

But that would mean –

“ _Your friend inhered her abilities,_ ” Caitlin said. “ _From her mother._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was quiet.

There were empty cans in the trash, and a notebook open on the desk, showing blank pages – but she knew, if she hovered them over a flame, it would reveal that they were not all that they seemed –, a blanket thrown over the back of the couch, a trunk with a padlock shoved off into the corner, and a telephoto lens camera perched on its tripod by the window; still, for all of that, it was quiet.

And then she felt the air shift behind her.

“ _Taer al-Asfer._ ”

Sara closed her eyes.

Her name sounded exactly as it did when she’d first heard it, when she’d first asked how to say it. She could never forget what it sounded like, when spoken in that voice; she smiled. And slowly, she turned around.

“Nyssa.”

 


End file.
